Aphephobia
"I'm so damn hazy."
“Mother fucker,” It wasn’t like I had meant to get this drunk; but there was an open bar - and I, Gabe Saporta, never refuse a free drink. I wasn’t even sure who’s record was being released; but did that even matter? A party was a party, was a party. And I like to party. Was I spinning, or was that the room? With my vodka cocktail in hand, I moved through the crowded room towards a couch where I could sit before I passed out. The couch didn’t help, the room is still spinning. “Oh!” I hadn’t even noticed the person sitting next to me. It took a minute for their face to register in my fucked up head. “Oh, Mikey! Hey!” Fuck, when was the last time I saw Mikey Way? It’d been too long. I reached over, placing a hand on the bassist’s shoulder only to nearly fall forward into him when he jerked away.
“Dude, what’s wrong? Why are you here all alone?” My words just kept coming out of my mouth. It wasn’t my fault that I talked a mile a minute when I was drunk. “Who’s CD release party is this? Because I really thing the whole ‘na, na, na’ thing is a little overdone. I mean, Blink has done it... 3OH!3 has done it. But it’s good-”
“It’s mine,” I could barely hear Mikey over the crowd and music. “I mean, it’s my band’s.”
“Oh! It’s great, it’s really great!” Score 0 for Gabe. On a scale of one to Kanye West, I wonder how much of a douchebag Mikey thought I was? He seemed to be acting hostile, like he didn’t want to be near me. Every time I reached to touch him he shrank away.
“You didn’t answer my question!” I blurted. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you dancing? Do you want a drink?” God, I needed to fucking stop talking. “Here, have the rest of-” I looked down at my half drank drink, I had forgotten what it was exactly. “Uh, of this!”
It wasn’t like I needed more alcohol anyway. I was one more shot of Jagermeister away from being on my knees, kissing the porcelain. So far this night was turning out to not be worth the hangover it was going to cause. I wanted to dance, but I was almost too drunk to even stand. Despite having reached my alcohol limit - because I was almost positive at this point my blood alcohol content consisted of more alcohol than it did blood - I waved some woman over who was carrying shots on a tray. I plucked up for and handed two to Mikey.
“Drink!”
“Dude, what’s wrong? Why are you here all alone?” My words just kept coming out of my mouth. It wasn’t my fault that I talked a mile a minute when I was drunk. “Who’s CD release party is this? Because I really thing the whole ‘na, na, na’ thing is a little overdone. I mean, Blink has done it... 3OH!3 has done it. But it’s good-”
“It’s mine,” I could barely hear Mikey over the crowd and music. “I mean, it’s my band’s.”
“Oh! It’s great, it’s really great!” Score 0 for Gabe. On a scale of one to Kanye West, I wonder how much of a douchebag Mikey thought I was? He seemed to be acting hostile, like he didn’t want to be near me. Every time I reached to touch him he shrank away.
“You didn’t answer my question!” I blurted. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you dancing? Do you want a drink?” God, I needed to fucking stop talking. “Here, have the rest of-” I looked down at my half drank drink, I had forgotten what it was exactly. “Uh, of this!”
It wasn’t like I needed more alcohol anyway. I was one more shot of Jagermeister away from being on my knees, kissing the porcelain. So far this night was turning out to not be worth the hangover it was going to cause. I wanted to dance, but I was almost too drunk to even stand. Despite having reached my alcohol limit - because I was almost positive at this point my blood alcohol content consisted of more alcohol than it did blood - I waved some woman over who was carrying shots on a tray. I plucked up for and handed two to Mikey.
“Drink!”
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