Page 384 of S is for SEX

CHRISTY

Waking up from a deep sleep or from a deep drunk isn’t always a good experience. Sometimes, when your eyes open and you don’t quite remember where you are, it’s a little bit of a learning experience for a few minutes. When it has happened to me in the past, I have always acted like I know where I am and what’s going on, even though that isn’t necessarily the case.

This was one of those times. Only a little bit worse.

“What the fuck happened?” I asked as I looked around, my eyes out of focus.

Everything is white, this can’t be good.

“You passed out,” Heather whispered.

“I fell down,” I responded.

“You didn’t fall down. You stood up, mumbled something, and barfed. You tried to take a step, slipped on all the puke, and down you went. Your feet flew up, and your head went down. That’s not falling Christy, it’s a pass-out. Then your drunk little ass crawled around in the puke for a minute before you really passed out,” Heather giggled.

“Whatever. Where am I?” I asked, trying to focus.

“You’re in the hospital. You barfed all over the place. It was embarrassing. You were just spinning and barfing and then you went down,” Heather said, hovering over me.

“I heard you the first time, where are my clothes?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I think they changed them in the ambulance,” she snarled.

Damn, bitch. Chill. It isn’t my fault I fell down. Obviously I’m sick. Something I ate, I’m sure...

“Ambulance?”

“Yes, an ambulance. That little Frankie girl and I tried to get you up, but you were covered in puke and it was gross. You were like a wet noodle. She called an ambulance,” she said as she shook her head.

“So what now? And I can’t see a fucking thing. I think I knocked myself half blind,” I responded, blinking my eyes.

“No, they said they took your contacts out. I don’t know where they are,” Heather responded as she looked around the room.

“My purse, where’s my purse? And my car?”

“I have your purse. And your car is at the bar,” she answered as she sat back down beside the bed.

“Back pack?” I asked, turning around squinting.

“I have no idea. In your car?”

“Yeah probably. I suppose so,” I responded, blinking.

“Get my glasses out of my purse,” I said as I rubbed my eyes.

“Here,” Heather said as she slipped my glasses onto my face.

Fuck, I can see. Thank God. Jesus Christmas. I feel like an ass sandwich.

I glanced around the room and tried to figure out what it was that I needed to do. I felt weak and about half retarded. I pulled back the covers on the bed and looked at what I was wearing – a standard issue hospital gown. Great, no panties.

Oh, fuck. Butt Pirate needs crackers.

“Heather, help me up, we gotta get out of here. The Pirate hasn’t had anything to eat in a while,” I said as I tried to sit up in bed.

“What? You can’t leave,” she snapped back.

“Can’t? Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow.

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