Groaning, I got up off the couch and the empty beer can rolled off my stomach and onto the floor, clattering on the linoleum. My God, what a headache!
That was some party last night, what I can remember of it. For sure, there was that bunch of nutjobs from two floors down and I remembered Big Sam and
Georgie screaming and hollering over the tunes blasting out of the player.
Standing up, I reached over to turn the thing off and almost fell over with the sudden stab of pain in my head. Man... no way to start a day. I need a
coffee BAD, so I started this weaving stumble into the kitchen and almost slipped on a pizza box with two slimy slices spilling out of it. The place
was a disaster, like normal.
The noonday sun was blazing in the window over the sink and I had to shield my eyes for fear of being blinded. The thumping in my head was ridiculous.
It sounded like an old washing machine with an uneven load in it. Grimacing, I filled the carafe with water and poured it into the reservour of the
coffee maker... well, most of it anyways. The filter was only half full, so I poured enough ground coffee into it to fill it, slammed the lid shut
and, grimacing with another stab of sudden pain, hit the on button.
Time for a body check. No. not me, I know I'm half here, I mean the bedroom in this craphole apartment. Slouching along through through the living
room one more time, I gently nudged the pizza slices back into the box with my toes. I could get hungry again later, I thought, and scratched my sore
head while making my way to the closed door.
I knocked really quietly and made some kind of grunting noise. Damned if I didn't hear some rustling in there. I knocked again, asking "hey, whose
"I'm coming in..."
Turning the knob, I shoved the door open just far enough to stick my head in. There, on the bed, was Big Sam, covered in blood. Holding him by his
hair, bending his head back and looking me square in the eyes was the evilist looking thing
I'd ever had a nightmare over.
"Get OUT!!!", it snarled.
"Sorry", I said and closed the door.
You know, hangovers disappear real fast sometimes. Seems like all the wobbly brains went down to my knees, because I sure as hell couldn't move fast
Number of words: 430 www.wordcounttool.com...
Dang... another 70 words and I could enter it into the contest.
I guess I'm going to have to continue it... no conspiracy here yet, just a vampire drinking the life out of Big Sam. How does a vampire handle a high
blood/alcohol level that Sam for sure had going last night anyways?
[edit on 17/11/09 by masqua]