Welcome to the Jungle

Last Day

Sunday morning arrives and I wish I hadn't drank so much.

I wake up with a pounding in my head and when I open my eyes, the room seems extra bright.

I groan and roll off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

I sigh and close my eyes.

***

The headache intensifies when I wake up the second time, but I get myself off the floor anyways.

I sway when I stand up all the way and keep a hand on the bed to steady myself.

I saunter to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I open the medicine cabinet and grab the bottle of aspirin. I lay four of the pills in my hand and take a drink of water before swallowing them.

I rub my eyes and look at my reflection. I look like I spent the night in a trench.

I make my way into the kitchen and Darry's standing at the stove.

"I made eggs," he says when I enter.

I take a seat at the table and he brings over the freshly cooked eggs.

"Thanks," I tell him before digging in.

Two-Bit strides into the kitchen and shouts, "Good morning, Curtises!"

I cover my ears and wince. "Really, Two-Bit?"

"Serves you right for drinking too much last night," he remarks.

I give him the finger and he cackles before sitting at the table.

***

I finish my breakfast and go lay on the couch. "Hey, Two-Bit."

"Yeah, kid?"

"Mickey's on TV," I announce.

He shuffles into the living room with our chocolate cake and sits on the floor, entranced in the show.

I watch it with him, having nothing better to do and wanting to relax.

I feel my eyelids growing heavy as the minutes pass, and I will myself not to fall asleep.

***

When I wake up I'm no longer in the living room. Instead, I'm in a jungle.

I look around and moan, "Oh no." Soldiers rush by and one in particular sticks out to me.

"Steve?" The young soldier turns to face me. "What do ya want, kid?"

"I don't-"

A bullet goes right into Steve's forehead and I let out a terrified scream.

I see the life go out of him and he falls to the dirt floor. "Steve," I cry. Johnny was right. There sure is a lot of blood in people.

"There's so much blood."

"Kid, what are you talking about? There's no blood," a voice says.

The blood's seeping out of the bullet wound and making its way to the jungle floor.

Someone says, "Uh, Soda. The kid's dreaming again."

I feel someone shake my arm and say quietly, "Pone, wake up. You're dreaming."

My eyes open and I focus on my surroundings. Soda's leaning over me, looking worried. Steve is right behind him with an annoyed expression on his face.

"Hey Soda," I say. He lets out a sigh and states, "Jesus, Pone. You scared us."

"Sorry," I say, "bad habit."