Try to think of the worst thing that has ever happened to you.
Maybe you failed a test that determined whether or did not pass that one class in school. Maybe you got your car taken away for a week because your parents caught you sneaking out late or maybe the "love of your life" shattered your heart on the day of your anniversary.
All of these things are horrible, no doubt. However, there is nothing worse than a killer hangover.
Light from outside shines directly through my apartment windows and onto the worn-out living room furniture. Although the warmth feels nice on my exposed skin, the light is nearly blinding and causes the aching in my head to increase by ten-fold. God, how much did I drink last night?
An insistent vibrating is felt underneath the couch cushion but I can't find the energy in myself to reach down for it. It feels as though my body has been replaced by bricks and that someone stepped on my head with a stone shoe multiple times.
As the phone continues to vibrate, I push myself up into a sitting position and take in my surroundings through squinted vision. Some unclean dishes are perched beside the sink, my bag is tossed haphazardly near the front door, papers are covering the coffee table, and all of the couch pillows are on the ground by my feet. Inwardly groaning to myself at the mess I'll have to clean at some point, I decide to finally reach down and pull out the stupid device that had awoken me from a restful sleep.
Pressing the answer button, I put it up to my ear and mumble out a coherent answer.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, sunshine!" A too loud voice booms through the phone nearly breaking my ear drum in the process. How Kate manages to act like she just ran a marathon after the night we had, I will never know.
"Kate, its..." Glancing over at the clock, I check the time. "It's 8:30 in the morning. Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?"
"Oh come on, don't be so grumpy."
"I'm not grumpy."
"You're hung-over," she deadpans. "Which means you're grumpy. I may not have known you for that long, Len, but I know how you are after a night out."
Groaning, I place my forehead into the palm of my hand. "Fine. What do you want?"
"I need you to do me a huge favor."
Sighing, I lift my head up and let it fall onto the back of the couch, preparing for some outrageous request. "Go on."
"I have to work at the restaurant until four and Jared left his wallet on the countertop in our apartment this morning like the idiot he is..."
I let out a small chuckle at how she talks about her older brother.
"Would you mind stopping by my apartment, getting his wallet, and bringing it to him at the tattoo place? He's having a freaking heart attack over it."
Jared is Kate's older brother by about two years. Although they fight like crazy and nearly pull each other's hair out every time they're in the same room, they share an apartment that's about a ten minute walk from my own.
Glancing at the clock, I agree to help her out. "Sure, but can I please sleep for another hour?"
"Half an hour."
"Forty-five minutes, take it or leave it."
Kate chuckles through the receiver, "Fine. Forty-five minutes more then you need to get your hung-over little butt to the shop before my brother calls the police and has them barricade down the door to get his wallet out."
