Sequel: Road Trip ›
Status: Finished. The Sequel, Road Trip Is Active
A Sea Of Dead Drives Men Insane
Chapter 5
It will be delicious, when I get vicious, tomorrow!
It rung in my head all night, through the spinning and the drunkness. We never did play Mercenaries 2 after the phone call.
"Max I'm scared," I babbled, tears running down my face, with my manliness. Max flung his arms around me, in a drunken, sympathetic hug.
"I'll kick his fuckin' ass!" Max raved, on and on how he was gonna get him back for this.
"What did he mean, tomorrow?" I slurred. "Is he out tomorrow?"
"Not that I know of, but what I do know is..." And he went off on one about how he was gonna bust a cap in his ass. The lights were all out, and I was sprawled out on my bed, staring at the endlessly spinning ceiling. The duvet around me was wet, from the tears that spurted from my eyes, and possibly a bit of dribble. I'd hate to see him out tomorrow, I wasn't ready. I was scared out of my mind. Drunk. Defenceless. I was scared to go to sleep.
---------
"Ohhhh..." I woke a few hours later, my head feeling like a bowling ball on a toothpick. The room was still vaguely dark, a little bit of light shone through a crack in my curtains, the city skyline merely a shadow against the rising sun. I raised my head, last night, almost a vague memory in my head. There was just the one memory that stuck out in my head, the one that scared me through the blurred drunkeness to the core. The phone call.
When I looked down onto the matress beside my bed, it was empty. Max was supposed to be lay there. I crawled to the end of my bed, searching the dark room for my friend. I spied him, sprawled out by the door, face down. I giggled, I shoulda known. Typical Max Green.
I scanned my memory for things said in the phone call last night. Or should I say, sang.
It will be delicious, when I get vicious, tomorrow!
Shit.
Tomorrow
I suddenly realised that meant today, could it mean he will be released today? I couldn't bare the thought, so as usual, I shut it to the back of my mind. But maybe, today was the day to face it. Maybe I would be forced into facing it. I had my friend's back. Surely, I would be ok? Max could kick Ronnie's ass any day...if he didn't have a killer hangover like I did.
I climbed out of bed, pulling a generic black t-shirt on and nudging Max with my foot.
"Gnerrrgh..." He groaned, lifting his head from the floor, a string of dribble stuck to his pierced lip. I giggled.
"Get up, man. We gotta de-hangover. Today could be the last day of our lives."
It rung in my head all night, through the spinning and the drunkness. We never did play Mercenaries 2 after the phone call.
"Max I'm scared," I babbled, tears running down my face, with my manliness. Max flung his arms around me, in a drunken, sympathetic hug.
"I'll kick his fuckin' ass!" Max raved, on and on how he was gonna get him back for this.
"What did he mean, tomorrow?" I slurred. "Is he out tomorrow?"
"Not that I know of, but what I do know is..." And he went off on one about how he was gonna bust a cap in his ass. The lights were all out, and I was sprawled out on my bed, staring at the endlessly spinning ceiling. The duvet around me was wet, from the tears that spurted from my eyes, and possibly a bit of dribble. I'd hate to see him out tomorrow, I wasn't ready. I was scared out of my mind. Drunk. Defenceless. I was scared to go to sleep.
---------
"Ohhhh..." I woke a few hours later, my head feeling like a bowling ball on a toothpick. The room was still vaguely dark, a little bit of light shone through a crack in my curtains, the city skyline merely a shadow against the rising sun. I raised my head, last night, almost a vague memory in my head. There was just the one memory that stuck out in my head, the one that scared me through the blurred drunkeness to the core. The phone call.
When I looked down onto the matress beside my bed, it was empty. Max was supposed to be lay there. I crawled to the end of my bed, searching the dark room for my friend. I spied him, sprawled out by the door, face down. I giggled, I shoulda known. Typical Max Green.
I scanned my memory for things said in the phone call last night. Or should I say, sang.
It will be delicious, when I get vicious, tomorrow!
Shit.
Tomorrow
I suddenly realised that meant today, could it mean he will be released today? I couldn't bare the thought, so as usual, I shut it to the back of my mind. But maybe, today was the day to face it. Maybe I would be forced into facing it. I had my friend's back. Surely, I would be ok? Max could kick Ronnie's ass any day...if he didn't have a killer hangover like I did.
I climbed out of bed, pulling a generic black t-shirt on and nudging Max with my foot.
"Gnerrrgh..." He groaned, lifting his head from the floor, a string of dribble stuck to his pierced lip. I giggled.
"Get up, man. We gotta de-hangover. Today could be the last day of our lives."
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry, it's a tad short. It's exam season :\