The Morning After a Party (descriptive essay)

My head is pounding as if someone is shaking it furiously. I slowly look around and see an all too familiar setting. I gradually rise off the disgusting floor, which is soaking in beer, and glance around the basement. Moving through the crowd of intoxicated people, I see my older brother unconsciously lying under a herd of unruly people. The mysterious thought of why I am laying on the floor instead of my own comfortable bed incessantly crosses my mind. All of the sudden, the painstaking sound of the ringing telephone upstairs interrupts stream of thoughts. Trying desperately to stop the painstaking sound of the telephone, my foot slips in a pool of rancid vomit that has garnished my kitchen ...