Tripping the Night Fantastic

Chapter 7

Hangovers can be held responsible for many forgotten things, for example; the location of your car, the whereabouts of your phone, and sometimes; the location of your eyebrows, and even, on very rare occasions; your own location. Charlie wondered this now. He didn't recognize the ceiling. This isn't normally something he would notice, and for the life of him he couldn't remember what his own ceiling looked like, but this definitely wasn't it. He decided to sit up to get a better idea of his surroundings. The messages from his brain to his body normally get around quite quickly. Not today. Today his brain was so dehydrated that every thought had to pack extra precautions and hike around his body like an old rambler through mud. Long gone were the days when electric thoughts could swim freely through a youthful, well watered, nervous system. Eventually his body responded to his wishes and he lurched out of bed. His head spun, the room joined it.

Keep had fallen asleep on the stairs. It's amazing how comfortable stairs are when you're drunk. But when you wake up you feel like your bones have seized together and you spend the next month walking around like a severe motorway pile up. Keep squirmed onto his back and half slid down the stairs. He groaned with pain but managed to stand up and walk to the fridge. He stretched and straightened his back. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and began replacing all that had been lost in his brutally battered and poorly treated system. He drank the whole thing and threw the empty carton into the sink. Miraculously he was already thinking relatively well and didn't feel at all sick.

He peered over the breakfast bar. Simon was still asleep. A little oasis of spit had formed on the floor against his cheek. Keep was only slightly disappointed to discover that he hadn't pissed himself. He thought about waking him up but decided to leave that to Charlie.

Charlie appeared, as if by magic, at the bottom of the stairs. A thunder cloud crackled above his head. Keep smiled.

'Good morning!' he said.

Charlie scowled.

'Breakfast?' asked Keep, 'I can cook us all something, if you like?'

Charlie didn't respond. He managed himself into the kitchen and looked at it. It was a kitchen alright, that much he knew, but how to make it work?

'Coffee,' he said.

The kettle had just finished boiling so Keep happily made them both coffees.

'Simon?' enquired Charlie.

'He's still on the floor. Do you want to wake him up?'

Charlie grunted and walked out of the house.

'Where are you going?' said Keep.

Charlie slammed the door. Keep opened it and went outside after him.

Charlie was standing half way down the drive in his t-shirt and boxer shorts.

'Where the fuck am I?' he said.

'Simon's house,' said Keep.

'Where does Simon live?'

'At home.'

Charlie turned around and went back in to the house. Keep followed. Charlie went over to Simon and woke him up by shouting loudly and shaking him. Simon's eyes sprang open and a look of primal fear grabbed his face.

'What!? What do you want!?' he shouted.

'Where do you live?!' shouted Charlie.

Simon looked around in a panic, 'here!' he responded.

'Charlie,' said Keep, 'everything ok?'

Charlie stood up and stared at Keep. He started to approach him menacingly.