The black rock he tried to swallow, all with it's abstraction. Was trying to regurgitate out of his mouth as he could not hold to it. For all golem, anthro and human kind his head was a slurry of mad imagination that came out of a nervous burp or two.
The stage fright making him vomit out of all the anticipation. The judges came to get his call, and he did not know the answer as they were discussing the results.
Uglier and uglier from the charade of poses he did, two lopsided heals he had to remove beforehand tossed like empty wet tissues thrown out of a carpet.
“You alright?” The gramophone stage hand had observed what had happened, the door was left open and he wanted to help a stranger.
The barfs kept continuing till it was all empty. No twitch or glory, no erotica, a shell of peacock trying to throw out all anxiety at a bottom of a toilet bowl.
“You done? Kieron, it's a world of life that you're here. Congratulations, you've showed the spirt of the game”
Those words ricochetted into his mind. Kieron stood up. He was done.
Staring into the leftover vegan milkshake, he'd be heading to the nearest Wcdonalds and order most compulsive morish, drowning it is like his failed dehydration and attempt's to pose.
He could not participate in the freestyle.