His knees rest against his chest. The darkness is complete. This is not how he had envisioned his bachelor party ending.
His liquored brain had made the bet that his liquored body is now fulfilling. The three wise men sloshing in his stomach earned their title the moment the locks clicked. His shouts had drowned in the commotion of releasing the barrel into the river.
Like the buried living, his scratching and clawing results in blood-covered sweat rather than freedom. His lungs struggle to filter the remaining oxygen from the air.
Unconscious.
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This actually has a groggy feel to it, believe it or not. Kinda neat! Who is "he"? While the feelings the main character has are clear, the actual physical space of this piece is confusing.
An opportunity for active verb use: "His liquored brain made the bet his liquored body now fulfilled."