Monday, February 15, 2010

Writing While Working

Certain People

As the years pass,
people get older,
more body hair,
less money,
theres no end to the cruelty
people face.
They gain weight,
they complain,
and complain,
The bickering grows,
the whining
the simple things they once
are now forgotten.
They are plagued
by age,
their only downfall.
And by people, I mean


i wanted nothing more than another women
i couldnt end it
i just couldnt be the bad guy
i cheered for the villains
i supported the anarchists
i enjoyed chaos
but this time
i just couldnt be the bad guy
it had been 3 years
a 3 year decline
a 3 year slope
3 years of falling
i met her
tall and tanned
a body so sexy
everybody wanted her
she was my escape
the one i was searching for
to have an affair

Writing While Drinking, 2

Strange Perspective

you would call me a scumbag
you didnt know me.
if you knew me, you'd call me
an asshole.
a scumbag and an asshole
the same parallel lines.
they have the same
they are the same
there is no difference.
they are just two equal ways
of telling me
im better than you.


a man loves to be hated.
he thrives
of it.
most see the word hate
very negative.
a man sees it as
the most significant figures in history
were hated
more than they were loved.
man is king.
a king is rarely
because people
are just
too hard to please.


the wind feels the same as it always did.
the glare of the sun on the water,
the raindrops landing on
a dry street.
a conversation with an old friend,
a conversation
someone new.
travelling around the same city
you grew up in.
listening to the same music
you heard
15 years ago.
christmas dinners, birthdays,
summer holidays.
the shoes you wear on your feet,
the clothes on your body,
the hat on your head,
the watch on your wrist.
from the sidewalks you walk on,
everything you know.
they will all be the same
you have that first drink.

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Art Of Welding, Part 1.

After a long day at work I was finally off and it was Friday. Before I even left the office I was already on the phone.
"Bryan, it's time to open the cages," I said.
"Oh, buddy! I just left the liquor store. Jack Daniels holds the key to my cage, and you better believe he’s opening it!"
"You're fuckin right he is. I don't give a shit who holds my key; I'm drinking everything. I'll chew through the damn locks, climb out of the cage, and show everyone what a true monster really is!"
"You're a sick maniac, you know that Nick?"
"Don't fuckin sass me, son. Let me ask you something; is it light or dark out right now?" The sun had been set for over an hour.
"What are you talking about?" Bryan asked.
"Is it light or dark out right now? It’s a simple question."
"It's dark."
"Well if you ever want to see the light of day again, don't fuckin sass me!"
"You son of a bitch! I don't even have to threaten you back. The amount of drugs and alcohol you consume every week will land you in the hospital soon enough."
"Hopefully," I said. "But listen, I’ve got to run home quickly, shower and eat, and then I'll head over to your place."
"Fuck eating. Just shower quickly so you don't smell like the greasy wop that you are. You'll get drunk easier if you have liquor for dinner."
"Actually, that does sound like a good idea. Wise words from an unwise man. See you shortly." I hung up, got in my car, and drove home as fast as I could.

After a quick shower and a couple of drinks I was on my way to the liquor store. I didn't have much money so I knew I was going to have to settle for some low quality wine. I've realized over the years of my drinking career that wine is best to buy when you're running out of cash. You can purchase quite a lot for a low price, and if you drink it like there’s no tomorrow-and on some occasions hope that there actually is no tomorrow-your head's going to be spinning like a propeller. Once I made it to the liquor store I managed to find a parking spot right in front. I was determined to get in and out in less than a minute so the second I stepped through the door I started yelling at the clerk.
"What's your cheapest red wine?!"
"This way, sir," a kinky looking brunette said.
"I don’t have much money, darling. I need the most red wine I can get for under 20 dollars."
She picked up a big, nasty looking bottle of Merlot. "You can get 2 of these for around 19 dollars after tax."
"2 of those, eh? How big are they?"
"They are 1.5 liters. It says right here." She showed me the label.
"Don't get smart with me, hunny. I haven't got time for sass. I'll take both of those; bring them up to the front for me, would you?"
"Of course." She picked up the bottles and started walking to the front counter.
"3 liters should be enough to shock my brain out of orbit, wouldn't you think? Or I could inject it. Would you recommend injecting it?" I could tell I was frightening her.
"Um, what?" she said. "Why would you inject it?"
"Well, it's Friday. If you don't come close to ending your life from abusing some sort of substance in an unnatural way you basically have no reason to live. Don't you agree?"
"I don't really know what to say to that. I don't party much. I haven't had a drink in a few months."
"A few months?!" I screamed in fear as I handed her money for the wine. "It's amazing you're still alive. You probably aren't far off from staring into the barrel of a loaded gun.” I left immediately after saying that before she had a chance to ask security to escort me out.

As I pulled into Bryan’s driveway I could already tell he was deep into the bottle of Jack. Alcoholic instincts, I guess. I walked into the basement door to find nobody inside. I looked around and noticed the bottle of Jack sitting on the living room table. I picked it up and stared at the little bit that was left in it. My god, I thought. And he thinks he’s going to out live me; not a chance.
“Put that down!” Bryan said, as he came out of the bathroom.
“Jesus, man. You’re walkin the plank a little early.”
“Well, you wanna drink with the big boys or you wanna go home?”
“Don’t worry, I got my championship belt on. I’ll be right beside you on that plank in no time.” I pulled out the first bottle of cheap Merlot.
“You dirty mother fucker. Why don’t you return some bottles so you can afford some decent wine? The bums on skid row can barely stomach that shit.”
“Those scumbags can’t stomach anything. They’d be stomaching harpoons if I had my way with them.”
“Amen to that,” Bryan said.
“I mean, really, we’re drunks but we still manage to go into work.”
“Most of the time.”
“We pay our bills.”
“So what’s their excuse for being such useless human beings?”
“They have no excuse. They can’t even speak English properly. They don’t even know what an excuse is. They never went to school, they’re animals!”
“They are fuckin animals! Fuck them!”
“Fuck them!” We both finished our drinks and poured another.
“You got any smokes?” Bryan asked.
“Oh, fuck! I knew I forgot something.”
“Did a little brunette distract you from your priorities?”
“Actually, yes, there was a little brunette. She was alright. It wasn’t the typical distraction from a big rack or a junky ass though. I was just going off about things that will probably have her terrified for the next few months.”
“What did you say to the poor girl?”
“I said something about injecting the wine. I also accused her of being a suicide case. She had it coming though, once she sassed me. I just couldn’t hold back.”
“Atta boy. Fuck her. Let her rot on skid row with the rest of them.”
“I guess I’ll have to call Doug to pick up some cigarettes, though."
"I guess you do," I said.
"I feel bad, it’s his birthday. Oh well.”
“You don’t feel bad. Don’t fuckin lie to me.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I feel worse for myself having to waste 2 minutes of my life on a phone call.” Just as he started dialing the number Doug walked through the door with a big bottle of rum and a lot of beer.
“Gentlemen,” Doug said.
“Happy birthday, man!” Bryan said.
“Nice to see you, Doug. Happy birthday,” I said as I handed him a shot of Bryan’s whiskey.
“Thanks guys. And thank you for the drink, Nick.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“So, got any idea of what you want to do for your Birthday tonight?” Bryan asked.
“I was thinkin we should have some drinks and go bowling.”
“Drunken bowling!” I shouted.
“There’s not much else to do tonight,” Doug said.
“I’m down for that,” Bryan said.
“So it’s decided then. My 24th birthday will be spent getting wasted and throwing balls at pins.”
“And hopefully throwing our balls into the mouths of under aged girls,” I added.
“Hopefully,” Bryan said.
“You two are fucked,” Doug said as he laughed.
We spent the next 2 hours drinking more than we talked. There wasn’t one point where all 3 of us weren’t drinking at the same time. We managed to finish everything except half the bottle of rum that Doug brought. By that point we needed a change of scenery so we went into Bryan’s garage where there were some lawn chairs and a table.
“Take a seat guys,” Bryan said.
“Pass the rum,” Doug said, as he sat down.
I walked over to a work bench where I saw a blank piece of paper and a pencil. This must be fate, I thought. I picked up the pencil and wrote “WELDING CONTRACT” as a title.
“What are you doin over there,” Bryan asked.
I held my middle finger up without turning around.
“Answer me!” he demanded.
“Come sit down, Nick, you’re drunk,” Doug said.
I finished writing what I felt I had to write at the time and sat down. I didn’t say a word.
“What is that? What did you write?” Doug asked.
I slammed the piece of paper down on to the middle of the table. I placed the pencil at the bottom. “Sign this,” I said.
Doug and Bryan began reading it.
The contract read:


I hereby swear to weld the dates February 5th and February 6th together into one night of mayhem. I will not stop drinking until I am unable to consume anymore alcohol due to unconsciousness or death. I pledge allegiance to the boys.

“Welding Contract?” Bryan said. “What the fuck is this. Have you lost your mind?”
“Sign it!”
They finished reading it and burst into laughter.
“Oh my god!” Doug shouted. “That is some hilarious shit!”
“Wow! And I thought you were going insane!” Bryan yelled.
“Let the welding begin!” I said as I held up my glass.
“Hear hear!” Doug said.
“Cheers!” Bryan said, as we touched glasses.

We managed to finish the rum and decided it was time to head down to the bowling alley. I folded the contract nicely and put it into my pocket. We’d all surely die without it near us. I was in desperate need of a cigarette after all the liquor so I began smoking the ends of the butts left in an old ashtray while Bryan and Doug attempted to clean up all of our empties. I got my fix and stumbled to my car, opened the door, and sat down in the driver’s seat. Will we even make it to the bowling alley? I turned the car on and reversed over some flowers, attempting to get closer to the garage.
“You fuckin maniac!” Bryan screamed. “You destroyed the planter! You’re paying for my bowling and getting some more beer!”
I revved the engine and drove forward over a different set of flowers. “That’s for not having any cigarettes, you cheap cunt.” I said. “Now get in the car, let’s go! We got a lot of welding to do.”
Bryan hopped into the front seat and smacked me across the face. “You owe me, you piece of shit.”
“Whatever,” I said. “It’s not like they were pot plants.”
Doug got into the back seat, smoking a cigar.
“Where the fuck did you get that?” I asked.
“There was a pack of them inside on the table, beside the bottle of Jack Daniels.”
“Beside the bottle of Jack Daniels? I don’t remember having any cigars,” Bryan said.
“You don’t remember much, do you?” I said. “Well then Doug, give me a cigar.”
“I don’t have any cigars.”
“You just said there was a pack of cigars on the table inside.”
“Yeah, there was. And this is the last one.”
“You are such a fucking cunt sometimes,” I said.
“Yeah Doug, that was a real cunt move.”
“Fuck the both of you,” Doug said.

After a long discussion we decided to stop and pick up some smokes on the way. We thought the liquor store would be the best place to buy them, that way we could get some more alcohol as well. I peeled into the parking lot at the liquor store going about 70 mph without fear, missing a family of 5 by a few feet. There was nothing coming between me and those cigarettes; and the liquor, of course. I parked behind the building in case a cop was around to see us stumble out of the car. We flipped a coin to see who had to go in and buy everything, which turned out to be Doug. It was his birthday, so Bryan and I gave him more than enough cash. Doug staggered inside with haste.
“How bad is it that we’re making him do all the work on his birthday?” Bryan asked.
“I honestly don’t care. He had the last cigar, we’re even.”
“Good point. He can go fuck himself.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. We’ll see what brands of smokes and beer he picks up, then we’ll decide if he can go fuck himself or not.”
“If I see cheap beer in his hands, I’m gonna lose it.”
“If he forgets the smokes, I’ll hit him with my fuckin car,” I said.
Doug stumbled back with a bag full and got in the back seat. Bryan and I just stared at him.
“What the fuck are you guys lookin at?”
“Show us what you bought,” Bryan said.
Doug picked up a case of Kokanee and put them on the empty seat beside him.
“And the smokes?” I said.
“What the hell is this? You guys are fucked.” He pulled out a pack of Benson & Hedges Black Label; my favorite.
“Atta boy!” I said.
“We were just fuckin with you, Doug. We knew you’d buy the good shit,” Bryan said.
“Whatever. Lets just have a drink while the car isn’t moving.” He passed each of us a beer and opened one himself.
“We should shotgun the next ones,” I said.
“I bought some red bull too. We should shotgun those.”
“Shotgun a red bull?” Bryan said, awkwardly.
“I’m in,” I said. “My heart could use a little jolt.”
“Come on, Bryan. It’ll fire you up.”
“I’m already fired up! But what the hell, I’m young. Pass me one of those suckers.”
We finished our beer and Doug passed around the red bulls. I shoved a key into the bottom to create a hole.
“Lets dance!” I shouted. I opened the top and finished it within seconds. I could feel my blood shaking. I felt like screaming. “Holy fuck! That definitely wasn’t healthy. But man, its mixin with the liquor perfectly. Where’s the welding contract?”
Bryan and Doug finished their Red Bull’s at the same time.
“Jesus!” Doug said.
“My god! We’re probably gonna have a heart attack tonight!” Bryan said.
“Guys!” I shouted. “Where the fuck is the welding contract?!”
“You put it in your pocket, you drunk bastard!”
“Oh, right.” I pulled it out and opened the car door. I looked and saw an elderly Asian couple walking through the parking lot.
They both saw me and turned away with hesitation. I could tell they wanted to continue looking at me, but they were intimidated by something. Maybe the Red Bull did in fact give me wings?
They started to pick up the pace and got into their car. I got out and ran over to their window, holding the contract.
The car started and pulled out in no time. I almost lost a foot under the front tire.
“Get the fuck back in the car!” Doug yelled. “You’re going to get yourself arrested!”
“They’ll be sorry if they get hurt tonight! I don’t give away free medical!”
“Just shut up and get in the car!” Bryan screamed.

Writing While Drinking

Tragic Stories

a girlfriend is
a book;
a tragic story of some kind.
complete with a
beginning, a climax,
and an end.
some last longer, and
each day
its own chapter.
once you finish
you open another.
you can read them twice,
its never as good.
and still, we continue,

Digging Up The Past

It had been 3 years since I saw my ex girlfriend.
I was early, waiting
at the bar.
I wasnt nervous,
I needed a drink.
I ordered a bottle of beer
for myself,
a shot of whiskey.
Just as I finished my beer,
she arrived.
She looked alright.
I took the shot of whiskey,
she looked better.


drinking again,
finishing my 5th beer.
a women standing
next to me.
shes on her third.
its a race
to the grave.
i buy a whiskey,
she buys vodka.
we light a smoke
the same time.
the hours
the brain
the eyes continue
to lie.
she says "hello".
i respond,
"will you marry me?"


The streets were quiet as I looked out of
the living room window.
No cars, no lights,
no action.
I couldnt think of anything to write
and I was alone
and I was sober
and I didnt have a clue.
These nights seem to happen
too often.
I desperately needed a phone call or
someone to knock on the door,
come inside, and
give me a drink.
It could be
A male or a female, or both, or a big group
of people.
We would talk and laugh about the past
and the future;
all of us drinking heavily.
The hours would pass
and my brain would start working
They would all leave and I would sit down
and finish the leftovers.
Then I would have a cigarette and I'd be drunk
with a head
full of crazy thoughts.
Id finish my drink, put out
the cigarette, and
sit down with my pen and my paper
and finally
be able to write something.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The Red Door

After a long day at work I finally made it home by 5pm. Its Thursday so I still have one more day before I get 2 days off, then its back to the 5 day grind. 2 days off is never enough. We shouldnt work more days than we have off. It should be 5 days off and 2 days on. Even then Id complain. I knew I would be drinking alot on the weekend so I decided not to stop at the liquor store on the way home. Every man should take at least 1 day off before a bender. So I get inside, take off my work clothes and huck them into the laundry basket. Theyll sit there for a week. I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to find theres nothing to eat for dinner. Now I really want a drink. I look on the bottom shelf where I keep my beer and see that its empty. Is this God's doing? I begin to make my way back to the bedroom to sleep off the hunger for food and alcohol when the phone rings.
"This better be good news," I say. I never answered politely.
"Oh it is, believe me."
"Yeah man. I just picked up a case of beer and a bottle of rum. I know you work tomorrow, along with most people, but why dont you come by for a little bit?"
"Fuck, I dont know how you do it Trent. Youve been off work for a few months and you still manage to drink more than me."
"Im a pimp. I got your mom workin the late shift tonight. She should reel me in about $40 or $50."
"Son of a-"
"Hey now! You do want free alcohol dont you?"
"Come on, dont be a pussy."
"You know I cant turn down free beer you dirty bastard. Youre lucky Im all out."
"Im lucky? Youre lucky youre the only dead-beat I know who still drinks on work nights."
"Im the opposite of lucky."
"Dont be a smartass. Ill be there in an hour, I gotta shower first."
"Ok. Pick up a couple packs of cigarettes on the way over here, Im all out." He hung up the phone.
God dammit, I thought. I knew he wasnt going to give me anything for free. Its always something with that guy. Smokes, food, a ride; I cant win.

I pulled up to Trents house around 6:30pm. It was a decent place with a big lawn. There was a small patio on the front with 2 chairs next to the front steps. It was an old house but he recently re-did the roof and the patio. He re-painted the outside, added a brick path from the driveway to the stairs, and a new front door. He loved his new front door. As I started going up the front steps he was coming outside with the case of beer.
"Nick, you made it!" He handed me a beer. "You see the new door? Isnt it nice?"
"Yeah, its nice. But, why is it red if the rest of the house is white?"
"Well, Im Irish. In Ireland, most people have a red door to ward off ghosts and spirits. I learnt that from my grandmother. I like it."
"But we arent in Ireland, Trent."
"Its called heritage, Nick. Anyways, did you get the smokes?"
"I got 3 packs of Benson and Hedges. I should have bought something cheaper, now that I see you didnt spend a dime over 10 bucks on the case of beer."
"You dont like Pilsner?"
"Oh I do, dont get me wrong. I just dont like to drink cheap beer with expensive cigarettes. Its unbalanced."
"Youre a weird guy, you know that?"
"Fuck you too, Trent."

We sat on the front patio for the next hour in silence as the sun went down. The radio was on inside but I could barely hear it.
"Bring that radio outside," I said.
"I have no where to plug it in out here. Lets just go inside."
"Let me finish this smoke first." I took a couple more drags and threw it on the grass.
"Hey man! Dont be throwin your butts on my grass. I dont want to have to pick that shit up tomorrow morning."
"You dont even have a job. It'll give you something to do."
"I have enough to do. I got an 8 hour shift tomorrow at noon."
"An 8 hour shift? Doing what?"
"Sitting my ass on the couch, haha."
"Son of a bitch."
We walked inside and Trent got the bottle of rum out of the freezer. I pulled out 2 glasses from the cupboard and put a couple chunks of ice in each of them.
"Do you want any mix with this?" he asked.
"What kind is it?"
"Naw, just give it to me straight."
"Atta boy."
He filled both glasses full and handed me one.
"Jesus man, I gotta work tomorrow."
"Its early, Nick. You worry too much."
"Im on the edge of getting fired. I cant be hungover."
"You wont be. After you finish that we'll have a couple more smokes and then you can go home and get a good nights rest. Youll be fine in the morning."
I knew once I started on the rum I wouldnt be able to leave till the bottle was empty. Trent really backed me into a corner. He knew damn well I wouldnt leave after 1 glass. He walked over to the radio.
"What station should I put on?"
"Some old rock," I said. I only listened to oldies when I drank.
Trent changed it to a classic rock station then went to the bathroom. I walked over to the back window to see if he had done anything with the backyard yet. The last time I was here the grass was all torn up and he was in the middle of redoing all the planters.
"Still redoing the yard back here eh?"
"Yeah! Im gettin a couple of guys in next week to help me finish it!" he yelled from the bathroom.
Where does all the money come from, I wonder. I finished the rest of my glass and got some more ice. Just before I put some ice into Trent's glass I saw there was still some rum in it. I finished it and put the ice in, then filled both our glasses to the top. I heard the toilet flush.
"Did you finish my glass?" Trent asked.
"No, I just added more rum."
"What about work tomorrow?"
"What about it?"
"Are you going in?"
"Yeah, I have to. Ive been coming in hungover too much lately and my boss caught me sleeping a couple times."
"Oh, shit. Tell him you have a condition. Tell him you cant help it and your medication makes you fall asleep."
"That wont work."
"Sure it will. Every boss will back down when an employee has a medical condition."
"Look, you have your red door and your backyard. Leave the stories and the lies that I tell my boss to me."
We finished our glasses as an old blues song played on the radio. I got up to go to the bathroom and felt the drunk hit my legs. It always hit my legs first.
"Where you going?" Trent asked.
"Dont be snortin anything in there. I just cleaned the counters today."
I ignored him and went down the hallway and into the bathroom. I turned the water on and let it run. I pulled out a little baggy with some cocaine and a credit card from my wallet. I chopped it all up on his clean counter top. Fuck him. Hes lucky Im not using a razor blade. I set up a couple big lines. Ill pay for this tomorrow, I thought. I snorted them one after another then flushed the toilet so I didnt seem suspicious. That hit the spot.
"Damn, Ill probably get fired tomorrow."
"Ah well, its worth it. Fuck my boss. Fuck it all actually, lets finish that bottle."
"Slow down Nick, whats gotten you all riled up?"
"You did. You got me all riled up by forcing me to drink tonight."
"I didnt force you to drink. You forced yourself to drink. I just supplied the alcohol and you couldnt help yourself."
"Youve been shovin it down my fuckin throat all night! Im onto you, you cock sucker!" The coke wasnt mixing well with the rum. I began to get paranoid.
"I havent shoved anything down your throat! Youre lucky I dont shove a goddamn bottle down it right now with the way youre acting!"
"Is that a threat? Are you threatening me? Dont you remember what happened last time?"
"You mean the time when I was piss drunk and you gave me a cheap shot after I called your woman a whore? Youve always been a cheap little cunt, Nick."
"Ah to hell with you!" I threw my glass to the floor and it shattered all over the place.
"What the fuck! You better get on your knees and clean that up. I dont give a shit if the glass cuts up your legs!"
"Dont fuckin push me you piece of shit!" I went in for a right uppercut and missed which allowed Trent to catch me with a knee to the stomach.
"You snorted that fucking powder in my bathroom didnt you?! I can see it in your eyes you junkie!"
I caught my breath and went back in with a left. My left was never good but I got him right in the cheek. I followed with a right to his chin and he fell to the floor.
"Ill take you to fuckin school son! I snorted this shit all over your clean counter. I used a razor blade and scratched it all up and left the mess for you to clean later. Now get in there and clean it you goddamn fairy!"
He got up faster than I expected holding the bottle of rum which must have fell off the table. He got me right on the side of the forehead. Glass with little drips of blood on them went everywhere. I stood my ground but had to lean into the wall. Trent stood there, breathing heavily, holding the neck of the bottle in his hand. A pool of blood was forming on the carpet as I leaned my head down, staring at the ground.
"Its over Nick. Just go home, fix yourself up, and get some sleep. You need your job."
"Fuck you," I said. "I dont need shit." Good thing I had those lines otherwise I would be in tremendous pain.
"You need to fix that shit up and get to sleep. Im not having you passout here with a head full of blood. I have to clean all this shit up and I cant do it with you around. So just go."
"Whatever." I walked out the front and didnt bother to shut the door behind me. What a mess.

The next morning I wokeup for work at 7am. My head felt like a trainwreck. I could barely focus on anything and my hair was soaking wet. I got up and turned around to look at my bed. There was blood all over the pillow and the sheets. I ignored it; I couldnt be late. I got in the shower and as the water hit my forehead I screamed in agony. Fresh blood started to drip down my cheek. What a mess.
After cleaning up the cut and putting on some clothes I made it into my car ahead of schedule. A rush of fear came over me. I hate driving when Im this hungover. Its worse than driving drunk. I pulled out of the driveway safely and made it onto the highway towards the warehouse I worked at. I passed a few restaraunts along the way but I was in no shape to eat. I drove into the parking lot of my work slowly and managed to park between the lines. I lit a smoke and closed my eyes. I should just drive back home, I thought. Fuck it. I walked inside after my smoke and of course my boss was standing right there.
"Well, dont we look pretty," he said.
"Thank you, sir."
"What the hell happened to you? You said you wouldnt be hungover anymore. Now, not only are you hungover, but your skull looks like someone tried to chop it with an axe. Explain yourself!"
"Well, you see, my front door isnt red, sir."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"My front door isnt red, sir. I have nothing to ward away any ghosts or spirits. I was attacked in the middle of the night."
"You have some imagination, son. Now tell me, who attacked you?"
"I was attacked by ghosts, sir. They really did a number on me."
"Thats it! Get the fuck out of here! Youre fired! Ive had enough of your shit!"
I walked outside in a confused state. The hangover was overwhelming. I was in no mood to sleep after what just happended so I got into my car and took my cell phone out of my pocket. I wonder what Trent is doing right now.