Gary's Mostly Pointless Blog

Welcome back friends and neighbors!

For this blog entry, I’m doing something a bit different.  My online fellow writer droogs started something they call “Flash Fiction Friday” and the following is my contribution.  What this means to you, is that you can semi-expect a fresh 1,000 word story posted here this time next week and the week after and so on, come Hell or high water or me just generally getting bored with doing it every week.

This little yarn is something that I think most of us (most of my Daegu pals at least) can relate to.  Those of you who know me might be able to pick out a few things here that are more or less non-fiction.  To that, I’d say…Geez, get off my back about it!  This writing stuff is hard, OK?!

So, without further ado: freshly squeezed drivel from my brain.  Mmmm…brain juices…

______________________________________________________________________

The Vicious Cycle

Brad woke up promptly at 11 AM.  Instantly realizing what a terrible idea that was, he wisely decided to go back to sleep.  Though he was still asleep at noon, by 12:30 he was snoring.  Sometime after this, he was awoken to the sound of “Whip it!” by Devo coming from his cell phone.  “Gotta change that ringtone,” he said and answered it.

“Morning sunshine!  Open your door, I’m outside,” said the voice of Joe, one of the annoying few that never felt the adverse effects of alcohol.  The bastard, Brad thought.

Brad sat up and felt his brains slosh inside his skull and moaned.  He slipped some shorts on and staggered to the front door of his apartment.

“Bradley!” Joe said at a level that was just short of painful.  “You look like hell.”  Feeling like hell, Brad said nothing and motioned him inside.

Brad made his way unsteadily and ungracefully to the couch in his living room and collapsed on it.  Joe followed and made himself comfortable his chair.

“I gotta say, I am supremely disappointed with you my friend.  You sure blew it last night.  My opinion of you and of your heterosexuality has taken a hit,” Joe said.

Last night? Brad thought.  He wasn’t totally sure there actually was a last night if it weren’t for the throb in his head and that general feeling of dread and death that comes with a hangover.  He  remembered getting off work, he remembered watching a few episodes of “Entourage”, he remembered meeting Joe at the steak house.  After that, the rest of the day faded into black with only nondescript and totally unhelpful images flashing in his head.  It was like the least informative PowerPoint presentation ever made.  Brad decided to ignore Joe’s comment.

“Fuck your opinion.  Order pizza.”

Joe smiled and reached for his cell phone.

***

By the time the pizza came, the aspirin and Gatorade Brad had downed earlier was doing its work and making him feel more like a human being once again.  They ate voraciously as they watched lions feast on a zebras on Animal Planet.  The irony was lost to them.

“Never again, dude.  Never again.”

“Huh?” Joe said and bit a chunk off of his crust in a way that David Attenborough would have been interested in filming.

“Like…I know people say never again when they’re hung-over. ‘I’m never drinking again,’ and all that.  But dude…never again.”

Joe smiled, nodding.  “Sure.  You say that now, but I think we both know what the real deal will be once eight o’clock rolls around.  You’ll be out and about just like I will.”

“No way,” Brad said, watching a lion on his TV creep through the tall grass on some African savanna.  “I’m out for tonight.  Maybe next weekend—MAYBE—but not tonight, dude.”

Joe looked at him with a smirk and shrugged.  His attention went back to his crust.

Their conversation lulled as they watched the lion closing in on an unsuspecting herd of antelope.

“I’m serious,” Brad said.

“Ok.”

A British accented voice-over narrated the lion’s behavior.  His tone was low as if he were actually there with the crew filming the lion, likely to add to the tension of the scene.

“Why is it that they always get the Brits to narrate these things?  So, I guess the Brits get nature shows, the French get the ocean shows.  What do Americans get?  Talk shows?  That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“I don’t know, but I’m definitely not going out tonight,” Brad said and folded his arms.

“Alright!  I get it!  You’re not going out tonight.  Give it a rest already.”

“No, because I know you’re going to try to convince me somehow and it’s not going to work,” said Brad, not taking his eyes off of the television.

“When have I ever—”

“Last weekend!  You said, and oh God was this ever classic, “You gotta go out!  It’s Saturday night!  They wrote songs about it, for cryin out loud!”  Then you started singing “S-A-TUR-DAY…NIGHT!”  Somehow that worked and I’m here to tell you it’s not going to work this time.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.  Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”  Joe got to his feet and collected up the pizza box to bring it to the kitchen.  Without pausing, Joe said, “But you will.”

“I’m not going out tonight, you asshole!”

“Ok.”

***

The strange trance that nature shows seem to hold people in was broken when Brad heard his phone singing Devo in his kitchen.  Before the song could get to the chorus, Joe answered it, saying, “This is Brad’s phone, how can I help you?”

Brad sighed in annoyance; half because of Joe answering his phone without permission and half because he needed desperately to change his ringtone.

Brad over heard Joe’s half of the conversation.  “Yes… Oh right, I remember you.  Red top, right?  How are you doing?…Look, I have to apologize for him.   He’s a terrible human being, isn’t he?…Well, you don’t know him like I do…But you know, I think he’s on the straight and narrow again.  He told me that he’s not going out tonight…Yeah, I think he has learned his lesson…Yeah, he’s here.  One second.”  At this, Joe put his hand over the receiver.

“Who is it?” Brad said, more or less uninterested.

“Courtney.”

“Courtney?  I don’t know any—”

“Courtney, the statuesque goddess that was all over you last night.  You know, the one that you were too drunk to take home with you last night.”

Brad’s eyes went wide, remembering the deity in question.  Brad lunged for his phone but Joe pulled it away.

“Remember, you’re not going out tonight,” Joe said and handed him the phone.

Brad’s mouth gapped open as Joe looked at him, eyebrows raised in interest.

***

The next morning, Brad woke up promptly at 11 AM, alone.  Instantly realizing what a terrible idea that was, he wisely decided to go back to sleep.