MWBB, 2-27


I came to with the taste of vomit in my mouth and the smell of a sewer in the air. Guess I hadn’t gotten lucky last night. Some broad probably did, by virtue of not ending up in bed with me. I rolled over, but I didn’t open my eyes. Not yet. But I was tired of kissing concrete, and it was morning, after all.

Aw fuck, my head hurt.

I needed to pee, and despite smelling like an outhouse, now that I was soberish, it seemed wrong to just let it go, so I cracked open my eyes and pulled myself to my feet, using the crumbling brick wall of wherever the hell I was as support. Vertical, I found a corner and emptied my bladder, scaring the hell out of some bum who probably looked better than I did and a rat which had been – aw, shit – gnawing on his foot. Suddenly, I needed to vomit – again – leaving more delicacies for that rat and its friends, and took off for less disgusting pastures. So to speak.

This place was a shithole. This street, this city, this whole fucking planet. Not that I was any better. But at least I wasn’t with her.

Dammit. Godmotherfuckingdammit. I wasn’t going to think about her today. That’s why I was out until – sometime – drinking the foulest stuff I could find. Last night wasn’t about fun, it was about obliterating today, and I couldn’t even do that.

Something buzzed in my pocket. Huh. I hadn’t been mugged, even though I’d been asking for all manner of atrocities to be perpetrated upon my person last night, as much of an asshole as I was being. I pulled the phone out.

12 pm – Angie and Rick’s Wedding

Fuck me, did I set an alarm? Why would I set an alarm to see her marry that rich lawyer douchebag?

Goddamn, she was probably getting dressed right now. Slinky underthings, a dress which showed her off to the world, but which kept the best secrets just for him. Her friends tittering about tonight, when he’d take them off and she’d make that face, the one which said you’re my whole world, and then they’d fuck all night. She’d be lying, of course. That’s what she did.

Maybe I was thinking I should show up and do one of those movie things, where the loser runs into the church and professes his love, and the chick would dump her fiancée in front of the whole world and her mom and God and run off with doofus. That would totally work.

Maybe I was going to show up and pop caps in their well-dressed asses. Did people still talk like that? Fuck, I didn’t even own a gun.

My phone buzzed again, and I thought about hurling it at the wall, then thought twice about it and looked at the screen. Hell. What the fuck was she calling me for? I swiped my thumb over the screen angrily and punched the speaker button. “Rick? Rick? Where are you? Are you okay? Please, Rick, we’re all waiting for you!”

Ah, shit.


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