Author's Note: When I took that writing class, I wrote something similar to this for Taste (and for Touch). When I read one of them out loud, as I was required to do, everybody was basically grossed out. But hey! I'm just following directions! PS: GO PACK GO!
Setting: Up to the imagination. It could be after the 100th episode ("The Parts in the Sum of the Whole"), oafter Booth breaks up with Hannah in "The Daredevil in the Mold" (S6) if you really want, or some other time when Booth is mad because "something" happened.
Sense of Taste
No use of the verb "taste" or "flavor"—let the reader taste the feeling—create a taste the reader can relate to.
As the liquids flew out of his mouth, his throat burned. The remaining liquid trickled back down his throat, tickling but gagging him at the same time. The mixture of bile and cheap liquor offended the buds of his tongue.
Said tongue surveyed his mouth, picking up on its dry state despite the remaining scotch in the crevices. To help alleviate his overall discomfort, he drank a hearty amount of water from the palms of his hands, enjoying the soothing texture as it flowed down his throat. For a short moment, the burning was muted.
The acid and alcohol mixed together to create hell in his mouth. After wiping his wet hands along his face, he searched his cabinet for mouthwash and toothpaste. He squeezed a healthy amount onto the bristles of the brush. The spice of cinnamon flirted with his taste buds, trying to un-offend them.
His attempt failed as, in frustration, he brushed with such vigor that he rubbed his gums raw. Now, cinnamon, lingering with traces of cheap liquor, vomit, and iron-laced blood swirled from cheek to cheek. The fluids mixed together to create something despicable, leading him to spit.
After once more washing his mouth out with stale tap water, Booth stomped to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice in the hopes that the sweet tanginess would alleviate his pain once and for all. The citrus killed everything unwelcome, leaving him relieved.
He gulped down another glass, the sugar dancing on his tongue like a child prancing in the snow. Finally, the nasty concoction of his failed night was washed away, but the reminder of her rejection and his broken heart did not. Instead, the mere memory of her lips on his made him sick all over again, leaving yet another bitter sensation in his mouth.