It’s morning you realize. The light is creeping into reality under your hazy eye lids. You slowly crack open an eye. Oh the light, tis not pretty. You choke up a low grumble only the noise doesn’t come out right. It’s all muffled and scratchy. Your brain kick starts, back fires a few times, and then screams “WATER. WATER. WATER. WATER NOW.” Jolted by the thought you respond, moving rapidly. Mistake. “Ugh. God. Why?” You suddenly and shockingly realize you have a hang over.
It’s a surprise you knew about last night, but conveniently forgot and told yourself to act surprised about. It’s a great performance in your history of acting by the way. Along with your ability to forget about your surprise gift of massive dehydration, a pounding headache, the smell of food making you want to vomit, and light sensitivity, you begin to sift through the haze of last night.
First to prepare. “Time to roll over and sit…who the fuck is in bed with me? Ok. Slow roll. Slow roll. Oh it’s a boy. He’s warm and fast asleep. Creep just a wee. Oh it’s just ____________, wonder what we did last night. Hope my performance was nice.” You slip out of bed, man this hurts. Water. You need it. You meander to the kitchen with a lot of effort. Pouring a glass of water is quiet the challenge, but when that sweet nectar touches your mouth…yum.
Ok. Time to collect evidence so you can piece together the night. First evidence to examine, your body. Ummm. Make up half taken off, check. Clipped polish, triple check. Clothes, made it into pjs and it’s all on correctly. Wow impressive. So clothes, check but need to find clothes from last night. Bruises, lots of checks. Pretty successful night so far. No harm done.
Next evidence, the cell phone. Drunk dial, surprisingly no. Drunk text, oh my. Check times 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5 poor souls. Review the messages: 1, PG. 2, PG-13. 3, G. 4, R. 5, Oh no. Sexting. Pictures. Shit. Wait. Pictures. Oh no. Review of pictures, check. Wow. Overall review from the phone, good night, successful night, put down the phone next time.
But moving on to the camera. The pictures bring back some more memories. Jogging a few thoughts here and there. You remember a majority of your drunken records that are currently flashing back to you on the screen. Not bad at all. Better than expected.
Now for the final evidence check. How much did you drink last night? You slowly pull down the bag from the crown royal bottle. Half full. Hum. You can live with that. Overall, good night. A little much on the booze, and sexting. And oh the gentleman downstairs in your bed. Oh you need to go take care of that. Pronto. You sigh aloud in the silence of your kitchen. “Spring Break man. It wins every damn time.”