I woke up the next day with a massive headache and my lungs aching like I'd been breathing in led for the past my whole life. Weed for a couple weeks, led....it's the same thing.
I grunted and stuffed my face into my pillow, wincing as the shrill sound of the phone ringing echoed across the living room, splitting my skull. "Aah," I moaned, reaching for the phone to make the awful noise stop. I snorted and looked at the bottle of vodka I had in my hand, a few swigs left in the bottom, before answering.
"Hello?" I croaked, putting the bottle to my lips and taking a gulp. "Is this Jason McCann?" a female voice chirped from the other line. "Depends who's asking," I grunted, emptying the bottle and frowning at it. "I've got a girlfriend, lady." "Good for you, Mr. McCann. My name is Bethany Smith, and I work for the government." "Wanna sticker?" I asked, reaching for my only half empty beer. "No. I'm calling to give you my deepest condolences for your brothers' death." "Eh, it was you people that killed him anyway." "Anyway, I'm to inform you that since you are not able to legally live alone, you will be presented before a judge next Tuesday, to decide what legal guardian you are going to live with. "I'll tell you what legal guardian I'm going to live with," I said, downing the rest of my beer. "My penis. Have a nice week, lady." And I hung up.
"Um, Jason?" I looked over to see Julia staring at me, curled up in the armchair across from the couch. "Hmm?" "Did I seriously just wake up to hearing you say the word penis?" I gave her a cheeky grin, then flinched and held my head, moaning. "That's what you get for getting wasted," she told me, standing up and going to the bathroom, returning with a bottle of Advil in her hand. "This will help."
"Thank you," I groaned, going to get a drink for the kitchen. No matter how much my head hurt, I was not downing these dry. "So, uh, who did you tell you were living with your penis?" she asked once I'd downed the pills. "Lady from the government." "Oh, well, there's a bright idea. Basically tell the government to screw off. Nice, Jason." "I thought so," I said, taking a gulp out of my water. "What did she want?" "Told me I wasn't old enough to live by myself and I had to be ‘presented in front of a judge' to see who I'd live with." "And you told her your cock?" "Yup." "Alright then. Are you still high?"
I laughed. "Nope. Slept it all off." "Good." "Why?" "Because I want to talk to you." "Oh, no," I groaned, letting my head fall back against the pillows. "You want to tell me why the heck you've suddenly decided to become a teenage delinquent and do nothing but smoke and get as wasted as possible before you pass out?" "You sound like my mom," I groaned. "Because I'm worried about you!"
"Why?" I asked, my anger flaring. "No one else does!" "That's not true. " "Sure, other people have cared. Look where they ended up. Six feet under!" "Jason, will you listen to me? It's not healthy for you to keep doing this! Think of what you're doing to your liver with all that alcohol; or your lungs with all the crap you've been smoking."
Anger roared in the pit of my stomach and I stood, knocking aside beer cans, the empty bottle of vodka, stubbed out cigarettes, and empty bags of weed aside. This was the one thing I hated about getting high and wasted; I was always livid the morning after.
"Like you really care about my health!" I snarled. "You just want me around cause I'm another cock, right?! I give you want you want, and that's all you care about!" My voice was steadily rising to a shout, my pent-up rage and hatred towards everything flooding out. "No, that's not-," "Just shut up, okay?! You just want someone to put it in you, you whore!"
I stopped shouting to catch my breath, staring at her as her brown eyes filled with tears, streaks already running down her cheeks. "F-fine," she stammered, standing. She ran out the front door and I heard a car start before tearing out of my driveway.
I stood there, barely able to process what had just happened.
Well, that was a nice way to ruin my morning.
