Eight Days A Week

Cappie stumbled around the bonfire. To say she was drunk was an understatement. She was completely wasted off her ass. Her vision was blurry. She kept knocking into people, some of which were trying to steer her clear of the fire. Cappie only wanted one thing; to completely forget about what had just previously happened. Even if it meant breaking her morals and drinking every last ounce of alcohol within the New Jersey perimeter.

She saw Jimmie, just vaguely, and staggered through people to get to him. She knew he would have alcohol and lots of it. He noticed her and laughed. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as her. Hearing him laugh caused her to start laughing. Though, she had absolutely no idea what they were laughing at. “Jiiiiiiimmmmmiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!” she slurred. “Listen…I need…” she threw her arm around his shoulder and began to say very loudly. “I need…” She blinked a couple times, only making them both giggle more. “I need more…”

“I gotcha covered Cappie babe!” Jimmie said, clapping her on the shoulder. He reached down to the tray beside him and picked up a vodka shot.

Kennedy, who was now standing only a few feet away from them, began to walk over. He was not going to let Cappie compromise any of her morals. He didn’t like what was happening, and he was determined not to let it get any worse. Kennedy didn’t want her to do anything she might regret. Plus, he didn’t want anything horrible to happen to her. Also, he thought that by saving her, he could be her knight in shining armor like he used to be.

Kennedy sped up his speed to reach them. He got there just as Cappie was about to down the shot. He quickly took it from her and set it back down on the tray. He looked at Jimmie angrily. “She’s cut off for the rest of the night.” He said, with authority. This only made Jimmie laugh more.

“You’re not my daaad.” Cappie shot back, though it didn’t make a difference. She reached forward to pick up the vodka, but Kennedy just moved it away from her. “What gives? I just wanna…wanna…” she looked as though she were about to puke. “a sip!”

“You’ve had enough.” He said, looking at her, hoping she would just stop. She only reached forward to grab the shot again. “That’s it.” he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. The vodka sloshed out of it’s glass.

“Heeeeeeyyyyy!” she cried out.

“You’re drunk enough.” Kennedy told her, beginning to walk away from Jimmie and the rest of the group, which wasn’t drunk, but just buzzed.

“I don’t think so.” she squealed, causing herself to giggle. She started to feel something rise in her throat. “Uh-oh.” she said to herself. Just after she said that, yellow/orange bile rose from her throat, protruding out of her mouth, and down Kennedy’s back. He stopped and grimaced, not wanting to think of what was running down his back. “Oops.” she said, giggling once again.