Pepe Le Puke

As we pedaled on with our lights cutting through the darkness, a figure began to take shape. There was definitely someone there on the side of the trail. The form became more defined as we approached, enhanced by the low overcast that was eerily lit by the overabundance of light pollution. The figure was standing still, feet splayed slightly apart, watching us approach from the darkness. The figure finally moved when we were about fifty feet away, tipping a can or bottle up to drain the remnants of whatever they were consuming. This was when we were both glad that this person was at least twenty feet off to the side of the trail. When the drink came down, they made a slight retching noise and then doubled over, spewing the contents of their stomach all over themselves and the ground as we passed by. I immediately burst into hysterical laughter and reveled for a while in the simple fact that our timing was so very impeccable as to witness this incredibly disgraceful act of slovenliness. Carrie was a bit grossed out and rightfully so. At least we didn't have to smell it in passing.

If a drunk bum pukes in the forest, does anyone hear it?