I'm Still a Little Crazy

I took the long way home that evening after I was with Sara. It was probably about eight thirty but the spring sky was still pretty bright. I loved it, how in the spring and summer the daylight dragged on for so long, feeling like I could stay awake for as long as I wanted to.
None the less, my feet ached by the time I got home. I stumbled into my bedroom finally, changing into sweatpants and a tank top. I hadn't even turned the heat off in the morning before I went to work. (I worked in an art supplies shop – kinda dull and not very challenging, but I'll do better soon, I swear.) I opened the fridge and pulled out the first thing I touched – a can of tomato sauce. Great. My phone vibrated violently from the counter, signalling a voicemail message.

Hi Pey, it's me. . . Joshua. . . I'm really bored. It's pretty depressing. Everybody has left, including you. I don't know where you went, but what can you do. . .maybe, just maybe you could call me back as soon as you get this, and at least talk to me. Cause I'm a depressing emo homosexual who is alone tonight. Actually no. I'm not emo nor homosexual. That just goes to show how sad it is that YOU DIDN’T ANSWER YOUR PHONE. . . call me back.

I stared at my phone for a second before quickly dialing Josh's number.

Hello? Peyton? Is that yooouuu?
"Oh my God, JOSH! What the hell is wrong with you?! Get over here right now and entertain yourself or something, you're loosing it."
I'll be there as soon as possible. Click.
"Sheesh." I said alloud.

Not even 10 minutes later Josh came barelling into my front door, banging loudly.

"Let me in you cookie monster! Let me in now or I'll break down your door."
"No you won't – you'll just break your fists." I yelled back.

"Huh?! Why would I do that?"

"Cause you're too scrauny to beat down a door, Doornail."
"Thanks, thanks a lot."

I smiled, and finally opened the door for him. I didn't even get a look at his face before he fell on me with a giant hug.

"Hello to you too." I said, poking him in the ribs when he released me. He ignored my pokage and stared at the can of tomato sauce.

"Ohmygod. You're so smart." He said.

"Uhh…Josh?" I asked.

"We're making pizza."

"You're kidding."

"Absolutely not. I'm so damn hungry, my sister won't feed me!"

"That's cause she's not your mother. . ."

"Thank GOD for that one too!" Josh laughed as he started to raid my kitchen for flour.

"Ohhh that's my best friend you're talking about there, fatty." I said, poking him in the side again.

"Gasp! I am shocked! Insulted twice in one sentence!"

"Twice? I thought it was once."

"Twice – actually, three times. One, I'm fat. Two, you're best friend isn't me? And three – oh hell. I forget now. (Actually, I just forgot what it was when I was writing this =] )

"You're such a goof sometimes." I laughed, leaning my back against the counter. Josh took up the same position against the fridge.

"That's cause I rock. And this feels good on my back too…" he said offhandedly.
"We're still gonna make pizza though." He said delightedly, rumaging through the rest of my kitchen.

"I'm truly scared of your cooking skills, you know." Is all I could say.

"Well it's not going to be like that time you put olive oil in the cookies. Yuck, that was like eating chlorine, Peyton."

A half hour later, my face was dusted all over with white flour, Josh had tomatoe sauce smeared all over his nose, and we were singing loudly to old ninties music, as well as trying to find the mysertious two-six of vodka that Sara apparently hid from me a few nights before. Pizza and vodka? Hell yes.

"I found a scratch-and-win! You lose!" Josh's voice echoed from my bedroom.

"Oh well, there's always the Bingo hall when I'm sixty." I said, replacing the cushions on my couch. "Unless you're finding alcohol, I don't want to hear another word from you!"

So in that case, Josh had to come barrelling across the floor with a piece of duck tape on his mouth, throwing himself at me like a bird high on ridelin.

"Ow, you monster!" I screamed, trying to shielf myself from his attacks, but he successfully rolled me over onto my stomach on the floor and pinned my arms behind me. Quite uncomfortable, unless you're not the type who doesn't like being pinned to the floor by the opposite sex. I can only speak for myself though.

"You insult me far too much. My self-esteem is lowering every second because of you, you know. You are your. . . sarcastic comments. Psh!"

"Your self-esteem, my ass. You have an ego, and it's dripping all over me. Pardon me, you're drooling it all over me!" I squealed, trying to push him away from me. Josh fake-growled, rolling me onto my back but keeping my arms pinned to my sides. An kiniving little glint flicked in his eyes, and in one fluid motion, the scrawny little boy somehow lifted me up from the floor and swept me over his shoulder, so that my legs were now flailing and kicking him in the ribs.

"Take that, and take that!" I said inbetween my giggles.

"Your kicks are rather weak, actually. Josh said plainly, while walking back into the living space.
At that I took an extra swing at his boy with my foot, making him keel helplessly to the floor, dropping me on my face.

"Owch." I giggled.

"Uh, ooww. . ." Josh moaned, coiling into a ball on the floor beside my table.

"Oh poor muffin." I said with a laugh, crawling on the floor to sit beside him. He didn't move from his position. I began to aimlessly play with his hair, saying in a sing song voice

"I think I may have spotted the bottle of vodka from my upside down view, you know."

Josh grunted meekly, but after a couple moments he sprang up and followed me down the hallway to my little laundry closet, where Sara had tried to hide the vodka in beside a bottle of washing detergent.

"Hopefully this hasn't been replaced with soap." I said, eyeing the bottle.

Josh gave me an incredulous look.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Well, of course. Sara doesn't want me dead."

"No I mean you thought there was no visible difference betwenn soap and fucking vodka. Sheesh, I didn't know me and the guys had that bad of an influence on you. You're officially a ditz."

"Oh stuff you. You know I was being sarcastic, in an unsarcastic way."

"Uh . . . yeah. Totally caught onto that." Josh said, rolling his eyes.

"Haha, who's the ditz now, eeeehh?"

"We should do something about the pizza in the oven, as well as the unopened 2-6 in your hand." Josh said pointedly. I blinked at couple times at him, then quickly scurried into the kitchen.

"Our pizza is PERFECT!" I exclaimed, pulling it out of the oven with a mitt. Josh proaded it with his finger gently. I slapped it away, the continued to lift the pizza off the stone and onto a cooling rack.

"We can't eat it now?" Josh whined.

"No, cause then we'de have no tongues left – they'de be burned off." I said with a little smile.

"Oh, well thank goodness for superheroes like you, Peyton, or else I would have no tongue."

"That's right, Side-kicked Joshua. No tongues at all." I said, giving him a big happy smile.

"Vodka."

"Right-o. Get some shot glasses from the cabinet."

"Shot glasses?" Josh said, giving me another one of his infamous incredulous looks. "I'm pretty sure the only way I've ever drinkin vodka is straight from the bottle."

"Yes, but I'm of legal age now, darling, and I have a certain image to display, one of matturity. Poo on you."

"Oh, so mature." Josh laughed. Taking the two-six from my hands and opening it, he poured two full shot glasses, and handed one to me.

"What should we clink to?" I asked.

"Drunken nights!" Josh siad with a laugh. I raised my eyebrow at him, but couldn't help but laugh none-the-less.

"Alright then, you're the boss. To drunken nights!" We clinked and drank. The cold liquor stung at my throat for a split second, but ran down smoothly, giving me a little tingle.

"Another one, mademoiselle Peyton?" Josh said a moment later. I held up my little glass in response, and after he filled it to the brim again, I linked our elbows together, tugging him a little closer to me. We tilted the shots back again, another sting running down my throat.

"Pey. . . is vodka even supposed to be taken in shots?" Josh asked once he swallowed.

"Honestly, I have no clue. I've only ever drank from the bottle." I said, smiling guiltily. Josh tilted his head back and full out laughed at me. I wrinkled my nose at him, turning to our pizza.

"You. . . are mine." I said distractedly to the pizza.

"And you. . . are mine." Josh said, wrapping an arm around my waiste from behind me, pulling me into a backwards embrace. I smiled to myself, the heat of his body against my back warming me up. I slowly cut a slice of the pizza and pulled it away, turning around and putting it infront of Josh's face. He opened his mouth wide, and I shoved most of it into his mouth, smiling gleefully when he coughed from the heat of it.

"You so did that on purpose." Josh said resentfully, I shrugged casually, reaching for the vodka bottle.

"This will help." I said, handing it to him. He looked at it for a moment, then took a long drink straight from the bottle. I stole it back from him before he drank to much, and did the same.
I could already tell the two of us were getting on the edge of drunkeness, but wouldn't admit to it just yet.

"You know what we haven't done in so long?" Josh said, a little loudly in my ear.

"What's that?" I asked. Josh raised an eyebrow at me, then wandered over to the TV, squatting infront of the DVD player.

"Watched a certain movie, of course. . ." he said distractedly.

"Bride?"

"Nope. . . Napoleon Dynamite!" he laughed.

"Iiiiick. . . Yucky boy." I sauntered over to the couch, flopping down on it.

"Since when don't you like the same movies as me?"

"Since never."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Napoleon doesn’t wash his hair. He's a yucky boy." I said, smiling at Josh's bewildered look.

"You're so weird."

"Oh, thanks a bunch, says you who is all musiciany highschool boy with his highschool fun and gay friends."

"My gay friends being you?"

"Yeah." I said, not skipping a beat.

"Well at least your gay literally, and not gay figuratively."

Crickets chirping
"I think I now have total rights of beating you up!" I yell, leaping from my spot on the couch for Josh's head. Unfortunatly, I missed Josh quite painfully, and instead headed face first into the floor.

"Aaaaoow." I whined loudly.

"Aweh, Peyton! That was epic." Josh said sympathetically. I sat up slowly, rubbing the spot on my head. Josh came over and patted the spot on my head softly, but I only glared at him.

"I blame any internal bleeding and any unsightly bruises on you."

"Go ahead, that fall looked really painful, despite the humour."

"The fact that I hurt myself when the intention was to hurt you isn't funny, Joshua."

"Fine, fine you win. I just want to watch my friend Napoleon do his dance."

"Sick little boy."

"You know you love it anyway." Josh retorded, slipping the DVD into the machine and crawling over to the couch.

"You suck." I said, climbing on the couch beside him. He had his legs crossed infront of him, leaning against the side of the big red couch. I sat next to him, my legs folded under me.

"Where's our vodka?" Josh asked absentmindedly.

"On the counter."

"More?"

"Nooo." I said, amused. I felt queasy enough already, and Josh was probably more tipsey than myself, even though he was trying to act mellow now.

We started the movie and watched in silence for the first ten or so minutes, until my stomach growled loudly. I looked down at it meekly, then looked up and pouted my lip out a little at Josh.

"It's hungry."

"Grr." Josh responded, looking at me with a devilshed smirk.

"Grrraaawrr." I replied.

"Meeeerrrrrr."

"Beeeeeeeeeee."

"SOUP!"

"You suck at playing the game the right way." I said, pushing Josh's shoulder. He shrugged happily, putting his arm around my shoulder in a tight embrace.

"Too bad. I love hanging out with you too much to worry about playing the game right."

I smiled sheepishly at Josh, putting a silly smile on to hide my sheer joy.

You give me butterflies.