Take Out
By: Christopher Bice

I slowly drag myself out of bed. Being a strict night owl isn't always easy. As I stumble towards the refrigerator, I trip over clothes heaped on the floor. My mind registers they're there, but I don't remember much from last night. It must have been one wicked night. I'm so hung over and my stomach is churning inside of me. I think to myself that I only feel this bad when I have too much MSG. Looking towards the dining room, I spot the body. Then it suddenly hits me. I wanted Chinese take–out. I ate too much.


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