I only remember falling on top of her. She was laughing. She threw her arms around me and I could smell beer and nachos on her breath. I struggled with my pants.
Then, nothing–until the sun came up and the birds started singing through the window.
I gradually opened my eyes. My nose felt wet. I saw a paw in front of me. A white paw with brown spots. I thought I might have been sleeping next to someone’s dog — someplace. Stranger things had happened. I like to party. I looked around and back and the dog was gone.
I turned and tried to get to my feet. Something about my equilibrium was off. It was like half of my body didn’t want to move. I guess I had really tied one on the night before. I wondered where the girl was–where anyone was. She seemed to have enormous furniture. I fell to the floor. It hurt.
I picked myself up. I heard a voice from the other room. A girl’s voice. It sounded friendly. I wanted to run to it. I felt like I couldn’t really run. I felt like the top half of my body just wasn’t working with the bottom. I looked around and realized everything seemed to be in different colors than the night before. All the blues of the sheets and the walls were darker. The sky outside was darker.
I could smell something cooking. It was bacon. And let me tell you — that bacon smelled better than anything I had ever smelled before in my whole fuckin’ life. It filled me up just smelling it.
Slowly, I walked toward the voice and the smells. There was a strange noise as I walked on the tile floor. I thought my belt buckle was dragging or something — click-click-click-click. Going down the hallway seemed like it took forever–with my coordination problems and all. I couldn’t wait to get to the kitchen.
As I cleared the hallway I looked inside the kitchen. There above me was the girl who lived in that place — the one who threw the party. She towered over me as she stood in front of the stove. It was then I realized I had been on all-fours. It hadn’t seemed that way, but there I was. I was so fucked up. I crawled over to the girl. She smiled at me. I felt really helpless. I tried to say something but I think only some grunts came out.
I remembered meeting her when she got her windows tinted at the place where I work. She drove a yellow 2005 Sentra. I gave her the extra limo tint that was really illegal but she didn’t care. She liked it dark. She had tattoos. She invited me to this party with her friends. I didn’t know any of them, but she was hot enough and I thought her friends would be, too. I think the one with nacho-breath was kinda hot. I didn’t remember much.
She was cooking. She was cooking bacon. She was cooking bacon and she was wearing a T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing any pants. Just like that. Just cooking at the stove with me in her house, and she wasn’t wearing any pants.
Damn. . . . .
I heard her say things to me. I didn’t understand what she was saying. But I did hear her say “eat”. Finally: A word I understood in this, the worst hangover of my fuckin’ life. And damn, I was hungry. I really wanted that bacon. I really wanted whatever else I was smelling as well. Suddenly there was a whole bunch of scents — like a symphony. And I liked them all. They were exciting.
So she squatted down and put a bowl of some shit that wasn’t bacon down in front of me. I looked up. Damn, she was fine. I was too distracted by the show she was giving me to care or even question that much about the bowl and the crumbly dry shit inside of it. She ran her fingers through my hair and smiled at me. She said something else I didn’t understand, but she did say “eat.” I understood that.
I didn’t think she was that into me. But, wow: If she wanted me to eat these dry gravel things out of a bowl on the floor, that was fine. I mean. . . whatever.
After a minute or so, she went to the bathroom and left the door open. I heard her talking to someone on her phone. I figured what the hell. I walked in. I had an itch in my ear. I scratched it while I watched her on the toilet. It was like she was so into the conversation that she didn’t even notice me sitting there.
I didn’t really understand what she was saying, but it sounded kind of like this:
“Oh, —- guy Greg? — — know, — don’t know — —– —– him. I saw —- —–in — room and I — —- — what a dog!”
I recognized my name. She knew my name. But she was acting like I wasn’t even there. Kinky bitch.
I walked over to her and had an urge to lick her knee. The smells were really strong and I liked them. She just ran her fingers through my hair. I mean, she’s just sitting there on the toilet and rubbing my head. Fuck.
I haven’t called in to work yet. I can’t find my phone.
I think it’s buried somewhere.
©2014 Bill LaBrie