Not So Good Morning

Light darts in from the gaps in the curtains…right on my fuckin’ eye. I roll over, stretch and take a glance at the clock: 9:34AM.

Well, that’s not too bad. I thought to myself. I pull up to a sitting position, my head swimming and throbbing from all that shit last night.

I recalled having some female companionship, looks like that bitch hightailed it out of there and probably with whatever cash I had in my wallet. Well, I wasn’t quite in the mood to talk to anyone anyway.

I drag my sorry ass to the poor excuse for a table and light up a smoke. I take in the glorious domain around me. One twin bed, a shitty shag carpet (they still have those?), and walls with more tobacco on them than a damned plantation.

Sure as hell ain’t luxury, but it got the job done. Or at least I think so, hard to remember exactly what happened. Fuck alcohol, no more of that shit.

I stumble in to the bathroom to wash that skank’s smell off of me and catch a look in the mirror.

Two black eyes, huh? And is that a fuckin’ ring imprint on my cheek? Jesus Christ! What the hell did I do?

Oh well, shit happens, right?

I hop in the shower and start scrubbing up. I hear a toilet flush and then I get sprayed with lava. A loud cry of, “What the fuck you cocksuckers!” alerts the immediate vicinity of my outrage.

I towel off and feel a bit better. Stiffness is easing up and the world has decided to stand still for the moment. I scrounge around to find my clothes, shirt along the far wall and jeans at the side of the bed. I open my wallet, empty. Not surprised, but at least all the other shit seems accounted for.

I hear a buzzing. I think my mind is fucking with me…but it doesn’t stop. I look under the bed and see an object.

Hmm, what the hell? Oh, a cell phone. Wait, I don’t recall having one of these.

I flick it open and say, “Hello.”

I hear an immediate incoherent shouting and lots of swear words running together.

“Hey, jackass, it’s way too early for that bullshit. Calm the fuck down!”

The guy on the other end slows up a bit, says, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Hey, you called me, who the fuck’er you?”

“Don’t get a fuckin’ attitude with me, you son of a bitch. If you answered this your ass is in some big fuckin’ trouble. You’d better listen up if livin’ is on the top of you ‘To Do’ list today.”

I figure he might have something important to say and I let him explain.

He tells me some rather disturbing things. Explains the black eyes I got, tells me who I went around screwin’, and most importantly he gives me a hint that someone is lookin’ for my ass.

I click the phone shut, and sprint my aforementioned ass out of there. It’s going to be a long fuckin’ day.

~Zoo