42. Dog Food

**Ryan Damison**

Hallucination
*/həˌluːsɪˈneɪʃ(ə)n/*
plural noun: hallucinations
An experience involving the apparent perception of something that is not present or happening.
*It is a hallucination, right?*
I roughly massage and kneed my eyes, then again look back at the site. But the delusion in my vision didn't change. Dakota is still Dakota and blue hair is still blue clutched tightly in his fists.
It is definitely an illusion. It has to be.
There must be something in that dog food.
My pulse swells the more I see him and hear the wet noises coming from them. All that rage rises up in my head faster than lava and just as destructive. I could feel my muscles expanding, shirt tearing off my shoulders and my skin turning green.
Even if this is a damn illusion, I would never let Dakota get a head from anyone who has blue hair. Not even if it is Daniel dressed up as a hot chick.
No blue hair can give heads to him. Not even in my hallucinations.
With a war in my mind, my tipsy feet stride towards him. The more I walk closer, the clearer my vision gets. I could feel my fist smashing into his nose, splattering red blood on walls, making them paint with his blood.
I have never hated anyone more than Dakota in my life. He is like a jealous chihuahua who wants to eat everything where my tongue has been.
"Hey... You fucker!" I growl in anger as I lift my fist and smash right in his face, but my hand swings in the air, hitting nothing. Nada.
I look up and see he is still three feet away, getting a head while looking straight at me as if I am on crack. This fueled me even more. I take two steps, grab that illusion girl's neck, and forcefully pull her away from his claws. My heart beats like a concert as dilated hazel eyes meet mine.
"Amara..."
*How did she get into my hallucination?*
She blissfully smiles at me as the long rope of drool drips from her lips to her breast. Her breast. I stay paralyzed for a moment as I try to put 2 and 2 together.
Suddenly out of nowhere, she grabs my belt and bends down to my hips, burping loudly. I couldn't comprehend what was going on.
In an instance, I feel wet. Very well. I look down and see my jeans and shoes drenched in orange and brown liquid that smells of rotten onions and ass.
Did she just vomit on my shoes? My VERSACE SHOES!!!
My clothes stink of awful smell as if I am marinated in her puke. I look up and see Dakota sheepishly scratching his head, his white shirt has the same orange, brown vomit pattern that is newly created on my jeans.
*How dare she vomit on him first!*
"Oh god! My Emara." Shawn runs somewhere from behind. He grabs her hand and in an instant, she pukes all over his chest in a projectile motion. Orange thick liquid with brown small particles runs down his clothes like a waterfall. *A vomitfall.*
Shawn shrieks like a girl as she makes some grunting noises while puking her gut out. I look back at Dakota, whose eyes are static on my puking slave.
"What the fuck you did to her?" A hoarse growl comes out of me as I grab his collar and roughly pull him.
Dakota rolls his eyes and casually replies, "I did her nothing. We were just making out and she started puking all over me."
An invisible layer of rage takes over me. My fingers curl up in a fist, ready to snap his head and toss it in her puking puddle. "WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAID?" I growl losing my sound mind.
A sly smile appears on his shit face. "I said my tongue was in her mouth and she was sucking it hard, telling me I kiss better than Ryan.” His smirk spreads wide as he smugly looks at me.
It wasn't even funny. It felt like someone was twitching my balls. Very painfully.
My fist lifts in the air, aimed at his arrogant face. But the motherfucker ducks down in time, saving his god damn face. And I stumble back with a hard push on my chest. "I don't wanna start it right now, Ryan." Dakota snarls.
"Hell! You already started it long ago." I growl at him as I get flashback of the broken past. I can't believe I considered him as my closest friend, my best friend once upon a time.
"Man! Are you two fighting again?" Ken walks in with his dog food as he stares at us, then our stained clothes. "And that too for a drunk girl who is throwing up like a fountain.''
The whole area stinks badly, like a whale's vagina. Other guys walk-in on the scene while scrunching their noses. "Someone died here?" Two-mass asks.
"Oh man! I remember one time when I was so drunk and horny that I wasted the entire night in putting a condom on my girlfriend so I could ride her."
"Wow, man! One day, I was so high that I lost my virginity to someone that I don't remember. For the next whole day, I couldn't sit due to the severe pain in my ass. Sometimes it still pains."
*These gone motherfuckers!*
Dakota walks over to Amara, and rubs his palm on her back, “Hey, you okay?" She slowly stands up straight, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "Whoops! I thought it was just a burp."
"DO NOT TOUCH HER." I fiercely growl as I slap his dirty chihuahua hands away from her body. Dakota glares right back at me as he barks, "Are you a fucking idiot? She is feeling si-"
I immediately snarl at him, "She will be feeling only me. Get your hands away from her."
"Hey, calm down you both." Ken calmly intervenes between us. He raises his hand like a priest and offers the food packet, "Eat this, you will feel good."
Not again this dog food.
"It is made by top-notch nutritionists and filled with rare minerals from underwater corals." *What the fuck is wrong with everyone here?*
Anger boils up in my nerves like magma. I grit my teeth as I grab Amara's wrist and look straight into Dakota's eyes, “YOU! Stay the fuck away from my matters.”
Dakota's eyes stay narrowed in vex, his jaw twitches in chagrin as he stands there with crossed arms, glaring at me like a pissed of grandma who's garden I just destroyed.
"Heli-helicop-top-potter." Amara mumbles something as she swings right and left like a broken window. "Calm down, Ryan. Here, eat this. It contains powder of high matter of meteorites from spac-"
"Shut up, Ken. I don't want to eat your fucking dog food." I yell in frustration. I am so done with these fuckheads.
I pull Amara's arm and draw her away from these lunatics. She stumbles on her heels as I furiously drag her while looking for my car. "Motherfuckers! All of them." I curse under my breath.
"Melon-footer." I look towards Amara, who is murmuring slowly to herself. Her hair looks wavy like a blue octopus' tentacles coming down from her head. I look up at the dark sky and take a deep breath of calmness. Shit!
*What the fuck is this smell?*
I notice my jeans and shoes feel disgustingly wet and on top of that, the foul smell of vomit follows me everywhere. I look around and see hardly anyone around us. The night is dark and so is the surrounding.
I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs. I step aside and pick the dirty jeans off the ground, but suddenly my body freezes in shock as if I had a paralysis attack. *What the f-*
Thick warm blood instantly refrigerates in my body as I see Amara unzipping her black dress, pulling it off her chest while copying my actions. Jesus-fucking-shit-Christ!
She wiggles like an earthworm as she lets the dress slide it down her curves, down to her knees. And stand there just in her heels and panties in front of me.
Her dark pinkish-brown nipples stand erect in front of me, looking at my eyes with interest. *Fuck!*
Another hallucination.
*It must be that dog food.*