You wake up with half of your clothes missing. That's not unusual, you've had your fair share of wild nights. What's strange is the awful smell that surrounds you.

It's more pungent than your roommate's BO. You idly take a sniff before gagging.

Saliva pools in your mouth and you swallow reflexively. It burns your throat going down.

What the fuck is wrong with me? That was a BAD idea.

Your brain tries to ignore the individual smells (rotten milk, fish, moldy bits of food stuck to various plastic containers, and general festering garbage) all battling for your attention like the world's peppiest cheerleaders at the school rally.

Finally, you work up the courage to move your limbs. Formerly sprawled legs inch upward. Moving up onto your elbows you reach out to feel the wall of your current home and - Yep, you're in a dumpster.

God dammit, just my luck.

You swallow again in disgust, attempting to keep the burning vomit contained. Last time you saw the inside of a dumpster was in your junior year of high school. That day, you made a vow (now broken, clearly) to never enter one again.

A reflexive, calming breath inward (through your MOUTH, you're not STUPID) has your elbow sinking a few inches into something mushy.

Fuck this, you think in visceral disgust. You brace against the trash bags digging into your back and kick upward. Something gives against your feet. The sound of screeching metal, which sounds like a cat in heat, meets your ears.

Victorious, you finally open your eyes to see your legs sticking through two holes in the otherwise closed lid.

You're pretty sure your scream can be heard throughout the city.