Apologies to John D

McGee woke after the sun had reached well above the horizon. He lay still in his bunk for several minutes hoping the pounding in his head and roiling in his stomach would pass, but he knew better: after last night, working this one off was going to be an all-day affair. He sat up - too quickly; the room began to swim lazily like a dashboard compass. Combined with the rocking of the boat it was too much for his stomach and he knew he was on a short countdown until his system broke out in open rebellion. Just for a moment he considered trying to make a dash down the passageway and up the ladder but he knew his boat well enough to know there was no way he'd make it; instead he twisted the dog holding the porthole closed. Through clamped teeth he cursed the tight brass fitting until it came free; he threw open the port and thrust his head out just in time, as the rancid contents of his stomach emptied onto the blue waters of the Carribean.

After it was done he hung there for a moment, head poking ridiculously out of the side of the ship. It crossed his mind that to an outside observer the side of his boat might look like some pregnant whale giving birth to the most awful-looking calf in creation - one that looked like a hollow-eyed, unshaven boat bum who, in spite of his deepwater tan, still managed to look green and pale.

The fresh air outside the cramped cabin helped unfog his head a bit. After clearing his throat and spitting a few times he withdrew back into the cabin. The air in the cabin was starting to clear but still smelled of stale cigarettes and alcohol, blended with ocean humidity and sweat.

He sat hunched on the bed and tried to remember anything about the night before, but they'd all run together - little memories tickled at the edge of his mind but nothing came into focus. What little he could recall, he wasn't sure if it was last night...or the night before that, or the one before that. It could have been last month - or last year. What he did know is that like every other night, he'd blacked out and at some point had made his way down here, down to the tiny cabin with the smallest bunk on the boat. Down to where she had slept.