like that one time. .

when I had to drive you home the morning after cause someone stole your phone and who remembers numbers these days and you were half naked cause that kid no one knew puked all over you after his second Irish Car Bomb so the dress that you wore, stained and crusted by dawn, was wrapped in grocery bags and I threw it in the truck next to my golf clubs and rackets and when I dropped you off and you got the bag out you said it smelled wretched and closed it back up, turning your face away. Well, I forgot all about it and that trunk stayed closed for weeks till the next time my brother called me for 18 holes near his place in Chandler and I popped the trunk to get my shit and the smell hit me so hard that I puked myself, not onto the car, no I backed up, but near it and the regular club members were in the parking lot watching me cause even though I was vomiting I couldn’t stop laughing.