“Tony get up, get up.”
Tony finally opens his eyes but is totally out of it. He’s slumped against some man’s chest but the man has his arm around Tony like they’ve been best mates for years. All I see is floor. My head flops to the right. Is that a gun in his shorts? The music is pumping. I want to dance. Fuck it I’m going to dance. Tony stands up but his legs buckle until he’s back in his seat. I see the floor again.
“Tony come on.”
“Your amigo is fine with us.”
Tony tries to stand up again but is pushed down by some girl who starts gyrating on his lap. I can see her face. I try to push her away but all I can feel is her fat belly. It feels really solid. “Chicane on the beach that’s what it is,” I say.
I try to stand up again and this time she moves. I make my way to the dance floor.
“On the beach.”
Hey there’s Matt. “Come on Tony we’re getting the fuck out of here.” He grabs me by the arm. I want to stay but I don’t have the to strength to pull away.
“Seriously Tony get fucking moving.”
“Do you ever feel like an astronaut when you’re walking Matt?”
I then proceed to lunge forward step by step until I fall over.
“Get up Tony.”
“How about we set up base camp here and head for the summit tomorrow?”
“Who’s this?” I say.
“It’s Thor, just keep walking Tony.”
“Hi Thor.” I have my arms around the guys.
“So are we going to a party?”
“Yeah Tony we’re having a party back at ours now keeping walking.”
I wake up and have no idea where I am. A light shines down on my face burning my sensitive eyes. I’m on a bed fully clothed. My head hurts so much that every time I blink a new wave of pain crushes down on my skull. I stagger to my feet and the room’s spinning. I think I’m going to be sick. I walk out the door and see someone who looks like Matt on the couch but my eyes are zooming in and out so quick that I can’t be sure. I lean on the wall for support but it’s the bathroom door, and I fall straight onto the nice cool marble floor. The tile feels so soothing pressed against my cheek.
After a while I get back to my feet and am initially startled by my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are nothing more than slits with one eye practically shut while the other overcompensates. I look like an even freakier Tom Yorke. I take a step back examining my picture portrait only to fall backwards into the bathtub. I feel like shit. I kick the bathtub nozzle until cold ice jets of water spray from the shower all over my face. The sensation thrusts me straight back into reality and I crumble up into the corner hoping it’ll somehow wash away my hangover.
I take off all my soaking wet clothes dumping them in a corner before draping myself in a towel and returning to bed. I concentrate hard on trying to remember what happened last night but when I close my eyes all I see is black and I fall asleep.
“What the hell happened last night?” I say.
“Where do I even begin with that question?” Matt says while handing me a beer. It’s after 3 o’ clock and I’m still draped in my towel.
“I’m not even that sure. I was up on the dance floor and when I came back you were doing shots with the pimp and his girlfriend. At first you didn’t want to leave because you made yourself a new best friend, but then when you fell asleep and I tried to move you that fat pimp flashed his gun and told me to fuck off. He said that you were all going back to someplace for a party. I thought you were a goner.”
“Then what happened?”
“You threw his pregnant bird to the floor.”
“Where the fuck was he?”
“I don’t know in the jacks or at the bar….the bird started screaming and you just fucked off to the dance floor cool as you like. I dragged you out of the club but you were doing some kind of retard moon dance, so I had to hide you down an alleyway behind some kegs, and beer crates.”
“What happened with the pimp?”
“He came out roaring proper bloody murder. He even decked one of the bouncers for trying to calm him down.”
“Jesus,” I say taking a large gulp of my beer.
“I didn’t show my face for at least another hour and even when the coast was clear, I still couldn’t get you up. I needed the help of some Norwegian lad to carry you home.”
“I’m really sorry guv’ it won’t happen again,” which seemed idiotic as I sat nursing my Heineken.
“Don’t worry about it…although maybe we should keep things a little bit more low profile.”