Bonfire Survival techniques.

The incessant pounding drug him insistently from a dark dreamless sleep. As he sat up the noise only raised in volume, causing him to realize it was the interior of his skull making that noise like a midget being swung against the side of a house. Vague images of the previous night oozed around the back of his head, the gleaming eyes and slurred laughter around a bonfire, cheap beer, cheaper whiskey, and an expensive jump through the fire, not quite far enough. With a glance down he notices he was still wearing the half melted shoes. A taste like used cat litter spurs him to lunge off the floor and into the bathroom. As he bends down, turning on the tap he stares into his image wavering in the cheap mirror. Once styled hair askew, ash and charcoal stains like war paint across his face, a slow wolfish grin.