(Incomplete)
My shoulder hurt. Alcohol can be such a bitch with inhibiting memory. I remembered stumbling onto the rough pavement during my impromptu fight against a new Canadian friend not much taller than me. Nothing serious, it began with one of those conversations that states “I bet I could kick your ass,” or something along those lines. It was at this point that my other new Canadian friend not much taller than me interjected. “Just fight for 1 minute. No face shots and no ball-tapping.” There you go.
My head hurt. Damn. I don’t usually get hangovers but this time my body was just pissed off with what transpired the night before.
“Come on guys, get up. We have to go back to Emily’s and clean up all the shit we left on her lawn.”
It was 10 a.m. It was also hot and sunny. Combine those two factors with the already throbbing skull on my shoulders and you’ve got one pissed off lush.
“No way, really?” I really didn’t want to get up.
“Yeah, I could hear her mom yelling in the background. She sounded pretty pissed which just plain sucks for me because I have to be over there all the time.”
My stomach hurt, and churned, and growled. The only thing I can compare it to is that it felt like a very small and possibly homicidal man was trying to tear his way out of my stomach and leave no prisoners on the escape. I decided that if I wasn’t very careful about how I spent my morning, I was going to vomit.
“Ross, you’re driving us there, get dressed.”
“Fuck you, I am so hung-over to the point that I’m barely functioning.”
“Either you drive or we’re walking.”
Fuck walking. I got dressed, avoided the anticipated vomit and got ready to proceed to Emily’s house accompanied by all the members of the guilty party, excluding Jeff’s girlfriend who had to leave early. She lucked out.
1 comment:
that was really funny.
risha
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