“Well,” Margot began, “if its any consolation…I really really liked your performance. Well, compared to everything else out there. You were like my own personal Bob Dylan serenading the masses out there…”

There was another rapid vomitting noise followed by a second flush of the toilet.

“Don’t drag Dylan into this,” he mumbled from the other side of the door. He began to groan. Margot knocked lightly.

“Can I get you something? Some water? A magazine? I think I saw an issue of Italian Maxim floating around by the bar…I mean, If you’re going to be in there awhile you should have some reading material…or..you know…” She waited patiently for a response. The water came on in the bathroom.

“Are you still standing out there?” He called out.

“Uh, yeah,” Margot responded.

The water turned off. “I’m coming out now.”

He opened the door, and stepped out towards Margot. She smiled at him expectantly…and he threw up on her shoes.

“I didn’t think you had anything left in you,” she said.