October 24

0232

Number of times vomited: 14 or so, exact number difficult to determine as head hanging in toilet has adverse effect on mind's ability to recall anything other than gastric agony.

Number of times vomited on Xu: 3. Am very certain about this number. Am also certain that Xu is even more certain about this number, as her favorite jacket now bears evidence of toxic sashimi.

Am terrible, selfish, wretched, disgusting person.

"You know, the next time Zell and whats-her-face invite you to dinner, I think it would be best if you declined."

"Urrrrggghh..."

"Yes, I suppose it would, wouldn't it?"

"No, I said... I said...waaarff..."

"Do you think so? Hmm. I would have ordered the beef myself, but you're the one that thinks she's fat and insists on eating nothing but lettuce and seafood..."

"That was last week's diet! I just wanted to try the spiced...the spiced...oh God. Not again...waaaarrf!"

"No, I don't think you need a cigarette right now."

"No! I said that I didn't know that restaurant was being investigated for...hack...hack...haaaaaackk..."

At this point, fell weeping to floor in blubbering mass of wasabi-infused despair.

Have determined that fastitocalan flesh is not meant for human consumption, no matter how artfully arranged on platter with salmon and rice. Should shark sub-species ever develop petals instead of fins, then shall reconsider eating sashimi rosettes, but until that day, shall remain a healthy distance from raw fish.

Am terrible, selfish, wretched, disgusting person. Do not deserve friend like Xu, who held my hair so I could purge my stomach of vengeful spirits of slain sharks.

Zell is a Pisces, thus able to eat fruits of sea and shore without fear. Shall punch him in gut at next opportunity so that he understands pain experienced after dinner.

"You look like absolute shit, Q."

"Ugh. Shut up."

"You stink too."

"I think I'm dying..."

"Don't you dare die looking like this. I'll kill you if you do."

"Can't help it...it was the sashimi of death..."

"No, no, no. This won't work at all. I've always imagined you dying in an old mansion, you know, like that Havisham bitch. Wedding gown, fifty year old cake on the table...totally batfuck mad. Bonkers."

"You've imagined me dying like that? What kind of sick bitch are you?!"

"Oh, you know you love me."

"Urgggg..."

"Q? Quistis? Damn it Q, I can't have you dying on the bathroom floor. Don't move. I'll be right back."

"Don't you leave me here! I don't want to die alone!"

Spent a solid thirty minutes alternately puking and cursing Xu's existence, then curled into quivering ball about porcelain base of toilet and found religion. Or I passed out. Not entirely sure.

Am terrible, selfish, wretched, disgusting person. Garden in midst of lockdown for a nasty strain of influenza and medical help has been limited to dire emergencies. In order to receive professional assistance, one must be:

a) missing one or more limbs

b) already dead

c) a fine actress, or

d) Xu

Unsure how Dr. Kadowaki was convinced to make 0300 house call, but am willing to place large bet that Xu was very creative with her threats. Either she brought the good doctor to me at gunpoint, or she said that she would tell authorities that mysterious plants growing in east side of training center are in fact Dr. Kadowaki's personal stash and are not government-funded medicinal marijuana experiment.

Now with potent anti-nausea drug racing through veins and able to sleep in confidence that will not choke on own bile and die a most ignoble death, am formally rescinding all negative remarks made about best friend. I love my Xu.

Must remember to buy thank-you bouquet upon recovery.

Wait. Strike that. Shall take Xu to strip club and purchase lap-dance to demonstrate eternal gratitude...

Hoo boy. Phenegran kicking in...