Bryan – bless him – found a long stick and gingerly shoved at the remains of the gummy bear’s corpse, trying to shove Boomers Finally Die Shirt off of me without actually touching it himself. I grabbed hold of the stick instead and he heaved, pulling me out of the morass with a wet slurp as the mud released its hold. I stood there, breathing heavily through my nose, afraid to open my mouth. Finally, I spat, and then kept spitting until my mouth was dry. Bryan took off his vest and threw it at me and I used this to wipe my face off.
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I don’t remember much after that. I remember hands grabbing my wrists and pulling Boomers Finally Die Shirt towards a fire. There are bruises on my skin from their grip. I remember the leering faces of the musicians, their bright eyes glittering at me from under the darkness of their hoods. I remember throwing up in the bushes. And then I remember laying on my back, alone, with the morning sun in my eyes. The ashes of a fire smoldered nearby and all around me were the footprints of the dancers in the soft earth. There was a foul taste in my mouth and I stunk of smoke, vomit, and sweat.