The Case of the Mysterious Vomiter

So I was asleep last night like I usually am (in bed, horizontal, etc. etc. etc.) when a noise woke me up. It was a man vomiting loudly outside my window.
This was no ordinary late-night hurl. This was the sound of a man puking his guts out. And his best friend's guts. And his dog's guts. Pretty much any guts he could get his hands on, really. And it was LOUD and LONG. Each vomit took at least ten seconds from start to finish.

It sounded something like this: HUH-WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNH HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNH ACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK ACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK (cough) (cough) (spit).

If an Ent were a junkie and just shot up some bad Miracle-Gro, this is what he would sound like.

I felt like I was in a re-enactment of the Kitty Genovese murder, except instead of a pretty girl being murdered, it was a smack addict coughing up his esophagus. What should I do? Should I go down and help him? Should I call 911? Should I at least get out of bed? Fortunately for me, The Stomper strode into action.

The Stomper is my upstairs neighbor. I've never met him, but I imagine he's about 300 lbs. I honestly don't know how he could weigh any less, given the rumbling and shaking occasioned by his every step.

Now, I have no idea whether The Stomper acutally did anything. I just figured (like the other 37 witnesses to Kitty Genovese's murder) that someone else was taking charge. So I settled back in, and after about ten minutes, the Mysterious Vomiter moved on. At least, I assumed he did. I didn't see any dead bodies when I walked to work this morning.