Still I sit there with Demon Souls open staring at it for a good 10 minutes and still I find myself deleting and re-writing sentences, it just isn't coming! So I decided to carry this on and because people seem to like it : )
So after writer's block, listening to Mighty Boosh audio commentaries from season 1 and painting Booshy doodles onto canvases I simply had to write some Boosh fiction, can you blame me? It's been one hell of a Boosh day!

So...More tears, more alcohol, more angst...Yep, Vince is drunk.
Disclaimer again: I do not own : )
Ahh and I am having my room re-decorated within the next couple of days so no computer for me D: So there may be a lack in updates to this and Demon Souls. Will have to use mother's laptop to catch up on your stories 8-) Oh the joy of the slowest laptop known to man.

Enough crap from me, enjoy xx

Vodka tears

Be careful with his heart. It's more fragile than you think

He slams his bedroom door and drops the cold bottle of vodka down onto his bed then slumps down to a crouch by the wall. After a while he looses all feeling in his legs causing him to slip further onto the floor until his bum is resting on the soft carpet.

He shakes with sobs and tries to cry quietly, silently, but can't manage it. He wants to pour his heart out but doesn't want Howard thinking he was a big coward for doing so, instead he sits and stares at the Vodka with tears rolling down his cheeks leaving eyeliner stains as black as Howard Moon's heart behind. Every now and again he chokes on a sob and covers it up with a cough or a sniffle, after what seemed like hours and to save his numb backside he kneels up and crawls to the side of his bed, he reaches for the vodka, un-screws the cap and takes several long drinks as though he were drinking water. The now warm liquid gushed down his throat leaving a terrific burning sensation behind all the way to the pit of his stomach, he drank more and more before stopping because of his crying. The tears were flowing thick and fast and the Vodka wasn't helping his emotions much, he glared at the bottle and dropped his head back onto his bed and cried louder not caring what Howard thought.

Soon the volume of the television programme from the lounge increases only bringing fury to Vince's dangerous concoction of emotions, he glances at the bottle which only has a small amount of Vodka left in it, he downs it quickly and shudders with the after burn then tosses the empty bottle aside and crawls in search of more alcohol around his room.

Under his bed he finds half a bottle of Jack Daniel's left over from his birthday a few weeks ago which disappears within seconds, as he swallows the alcohol his throat feels swollen but he chooses to ignore it and drinks the whisky as though it were water or lemonade. He'd regret it in the morning but for now he didn't care, he wanted to drown his sorrows in strong liquor and forget for just one night. He knew the memories and the heartache would come flooding back to him in the morning like a wave of sickness, as he would vomit into the toilet bowl. But for now he wasn't bothered.

After consuming the vodka and the Jack Daniel's and then sitting in silence for what seemed like forever, Vince was starting to feel quite sick but still craved more alcohol. The television had finally been switched off and the flat was flooded in darkness, when he was sure Howard had gone to bed Vince stumbled out of his room clumsily managing to stumble over his own two feet.

He made his way to the kitchen but stopped and swayed while trying to focus on a photograph hanging on the wall, one of himself and Howard. A nice one where they have an arm round each other's shoulders and they're both friends, both smiling and looking happy. He takes the photo off the wall and clutches it with both hands still starring at it then laughs slightly and lets the photo hang by his side in his left limp shaking hand, he progresses to the fridge and pulls open the door almost falling inside from the alcohol he had already consumed.

His free hand finds itself round a bottle of red wine that belonged to Howard, Vince didn't really like wine at all, in fact he despised the taste but when he finally finished fondling with the corkscrew he found that the wine simply tasted of nothing. He drank it swiftly like orange juice from the carton and didn't even shudder when he took a breath after swallowing a mouthful. Still swaying dizzily he takes the bottle and a fresh bottle of vodka over to the sofa along with a glass and the photo. He sets the photo frame down so it is facing him and places the glass next to it while taking a large swig of the wine, he pours out some vodka into the glass then sets the bottle down and finishes his wine.

The vodka belonged to Naboo and Bollo but Vince was too out of his mind to realise the tiny Shaman would not be happy with the mod when he found out his Vodka had been completely consumed.

When the wine was finished he tossed the bottle aside allowing it to roll off to where it pleased leaving Vince to get started on the Vodka, completely ignoring the glass he drinks straight from the bottle fighting the urge to be sick and trying his best to stop his tears.

He swipes at his eyes viciously making them red and sore not only from the salty tears but from the rough material on his jacket sleeve, his sobs are choked again and his breathing is cut short, the alcohol was making his emotions run dangerously high.

When he finally composed himself and stopped the tears, he was halfway through the vodka before he noticed Naboo's Hookah sat on the floor by the television, with no grace at all he slips from the sofa and lands on his knees on the carpet and crawls towards it sloshing Vodka all over the carpeted floor. When he reaches it he lies on his front with his legs in the air and the bottle next to him, he pulls the pipe to his mouth and breathes in the fumes heavily then releases them through his mouth. A thin smile spreads across his face; he inhales several more times before letting his head flop down onto his arm. The bottle of Vodka was knocked over in his drunken state and poured from the neck flooding a pool around Vince's head and hair.

In his sleep he made soft little murmuring noises which could have been mistaken for sobs.