The End is nigh

Blacking out is, to some, a rite of passage that turns a boy into a man. I’ve never been a heavy drinker, never finding bingeing that appealing to start with but rites of passage are what they are and you cannot escape them. 

I remember an American blockbuster where a bachelor party wakes up in a bashed-up hotel room, there is chicken and a tiger, one of them is missing teeth and the other got married. I wished mine had been that easy.  

I woke up in my own bed, my head thumping continuously, feeling as though my entire body was made of cemented goo, my eyeballs swollen up and about ready to explode in their socket, even breathing had become unnatural. I laid still, unable and unwilling to move, staring at the ceiling, begging the Greek Gods to let me go back to sleep. But those unreliable bastards spared me no mercy and I was made to suffer every lasting minute of agony. 

I heard a voice calling out my name in a trembling whisper. In my semi-delirious state (Was I still drunk?), I thought Hypnos had heard my plea. But the voice, as sweet as Ambrosia, also had a breath that tickled my neck. I managed to turn my head, slowly…very slowly… 

… Some of you will know what it feels like to wake up in bed, the morning after the night before, with someone who shouldn’t be there. Much like Christmas morning, you are swaying between anticipation and apprehension. Usually, however, the atrocity humping your leg makes you gag. There are exceptions, few, very few and sometimes, only sometimes, it’s Robert Pattinson…   

So I turned my head half excited, half dreading…  I wished I had never looked. 

 There, naked, all smiles, was probably the greatest mistake of my life and I had no recollection of what happened, none! I stare blankly at the naked body, at its golden milky softness, at its curves, the lips curled up and smiled, the eyes sparkled, one hand landed on my chest. I jumped, quivered and shrieked all at once. I don’t think I had ever been as camp as I was at that moment. I pointed my finger at it and screamed “a… a woman!” 

 …A woman whose perky breasts seem to stare at me accusingly… A woman swimming in after-sex glow… a woman I had had intercourse with… 

I slithered away from her and ended up falling out of bed. I was naked too, my bum-cheeks freezing against the lino. And that’s when I saw it, under the bed, the evidence of our fornication. A freshly used condom! I screamed much like a hyperactive thirteen year-old would on finding out that one of the One Direction members died.

I was paralysed, unable to move or to articulate a thought. She kept telling me to stop being silly and to come back to bed and she called me Honey! I felt sick. I wanted her to get out. I wanted her to have never happened. I wanted my mates to burst in the room and shout out that it was a joke. But most of all, I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. I could feel the cold of the lino, the soreness of my limbs, this was no dream. I’d had sex with a woman! 

She sat up, her entire body in full view. 

I saw her bits and fainted…

 To Be Continued In “The End is Here”