Time Drunk

Old Henry

"Pour some sugar on mayyyy!" Trish belted out to the dog at her side. "Whoo! Sing it!" she swung both hands into the starry night sky. "Oops," she laughed as her drink sloshed over the rim to run down her hand. "It's okay. There's more where that came from," she confided to the solemn brown eyes beside her. Trish plopped down on the side of the fountain that overlooked the courtyard where the reception was taking place.

She'd always thought England would be a cold rainy place, but the past few days had been full of lush if rugged landscapes and sunshine. The history of the country was bursting from every building and street corner, but there hadn't been time to explore just yet. 

Her roommate, Whitney, had finally tied the knot with her boyfriend, and she'd wanted Trish to be a bridesmaid. A small hiccup, resulting in a venue change, had thrown everyone for a loop. However, Whitney and her husband had been delighted by the new and gorgeous location. Trish and a few others had stayed up all night to help put up decorations. 

The tips of Trish's fingers were still sensitive, so it took a concentrated moment to smooth out the ruffles on her overly bright pink gown. The dress had hurt to look at, but she'd been reassured at the words inclusive and free bar.

"Of course, I came," she told the dog since it hadn't abandoned her yet. "There's only so many times in a girl's life she gets to wear hundred-dollar dresses and drink free champagne. And Whitney's great. That's her," she pointed toward the crowd of people that had surrounded a black limo plastered with "Jumped the Broom" on every window. "They're good together, you know. Good as anyone," she sipped deeply from her glass, watching people wave and cheer drunkenly as the car drove off. The festivities would likely still go on for another hour or so.

Trish began to dance in place. "Take a bottle. Shake it uupp!" She stopped suddenly. "I wish someone would shake me up," she pouted, finishing her champagne. "Someone built, like really built, you know what I mean." She wiggled her brows at the dog. "Someone who won't drop you after three steps, and kisses you all night. All of you. All night." Trish let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders drooping.

The dog's jaw parted to show bright white teeth and a floppy pink tongue.

She blinked. "No. That's a very kind offer..." her gaze dipped down for a second and jumped back up, "Sir, but no."

The dog leaped onto the fountain ledge beside her, eyes tracking her face. "Now wait just a minute," she sputtered. It put a muddy paw on her dress. "Hey!" Her glass fell out of her hands, but the dog was climbing into her lap, throwing her balance. She fell backward with a loud yelp.

There was a crack of pain at the back of her head; she'd hit the pillar of the fountain. Jerking down to the side, she hit her head again, scraping the skin. Water choked out the air she was trying to save. She wrestled to get her feet under her, but the damn ruffles of the damn dress were wrapping all around her. Furious that she might to drown in such hideous attire, Trish yanked her feet under her and shoved upward the moment they connected with concrete.

"Gah!" she burst out. Clawing her fingers around the side of the rim, Trish dragged herself out and onto the grass. "What the hell is wrong with people? Who the hell makes a fountain that deep!" she lay there panting up at the sky until her breathing and heart returned to some semblance of normalcy. "Damn dog!" she looked this way and that, but it was gone. And turning her head was having repercussions.

Gingerly touching the places on her head that hurt, she got mad all over again to see blood on her fingertips. "Damnit!"

The stars caught her eye. "Weren't you full a minute ago?" she squinted up at a bright crescent moon then back to the blood on her hand. "Damnit," she swore again, pushing herself onto her feet. "This thing better still be refundable."