where were YOU

I awoke with a start. Or maybe it was more of a crunch. My neck groaned a deafening creak as I uncurled my head. I had laid twisted in the corner of the couch cushion and the arm-rest. I tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes, but my left eye was glued shut with something that smelled of nacho cheese. My right eye informed me that my foot was draped over the back of the couch. I could only see it. It had passed the point of feeling. It wouldn’t move.

A small dull ache dug into my back. The ergonomically shaped wings of my x-box remote. It felt as if it was planted deep in my spine like the roots of an old oak tree. I shifted my weight to relieve the ache, only to crunch a rogue nacho chip.

Disorientation, dry-mouth and nausea quickly announced that they had arrived; then each one by one, they demanded attention.

Where was I? My eyes scanned in a sweeping search pattern. Home. Living-room. Couch.

Check.

What happened? I scanned the room for clues. A shattered bottle lay at the base of my broken plasma TV. Whisky, my old arch enemy. Damn you!

Check.

Where is Molly? Usually when I get attacked by my enemies, (arch or otherwise) she comes to the rescue. I survey the room. It looked like someone took a cage of rival monkeys, shook them into a frenzy, and let them loose.

Apartment= Destroyed. I hear the key in the lock.

Crap. Check.

She burst into the room. My mind displayed the event in slow motion; the look of horror did the mambo across her face. Angry disgust bloomed like a flower. She suspected what had happened.

“And just where were YOU last night?” I said.