Off the guff

He guffed in the most coarse and vulgar way possible, absolutely shredding not only his own decorum but also that of everyone else present, the sheer unseemliness and incongruity of his rectal endeavour impossible to ignore, and the stench impossible to inhale without vomiting, fleeing the room or, in one case, fainting in a paroxysm of ecstasy.

As one

Oh, it was perfect. The feeling from the pill she had taken half an hour ago had just reached the very top of her spine and a gorgeous sensation now exploded through her head just as a thick, pulsating bassline came in to fill the gaps between the beats. She had closed her eyes. Now she opened them again, and it was as though everyone around her had experienced the same rush of joy. Everyone she met eyes with looked back at the same moment and everything was pure approval. They seemed to move together. Everyone glistened with moisture. The floor seemed to vibrate, the bass, the beat and the bodies all moving in sync. Then, unbelievably, Jess appeared from behind to hand her a cold bottle of water too. Neither of them stopped moving to the music and their smiles to one another spoke of love. The cold water slid down her throat. The sensation seemed like a god-given consummation of her life. The whole situation was perfect. Well… it would be if someone hadn’t dropped their gut, anyway. Even that wouldn’t have been so bad if they hadn’t clearly eaten way too much salt. Actually… oh, God, it wasn’t just hot air they’d released. There was an actual log on the floor among the dancing feet. Then one of them trod straight on it and tumbled wildly to the floor. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Suddenly she awoke in her damp bedsit and, crestfallen, realised that it had all been a dream. All except the hot turd, anyway – and, alone as she was, she couldn’t even blame anyone else for that.