He barfed! Oh, yes – a lovely, thick stream of carrot mush and bits of celery steeped in the most acrid bile flowed from his gullet, the chunks clinging to her jumper and the acid corroding her already shit-smeared skin.
He leapt off the top turnbuckle and elbow-dropped the pavement, crunching into it beautifully, utterly failing to break it and instead devastating his own arm and, in truth, his life prospects. And for what? Nothing. Nothing at all, he realised as he lay there whimpering in total solitude, unconsoled even by birdsong.