Pimp me out Mommy

Hangover

I ended up successfully getting Brat into bed. She was my puppet more or less. I really hoped she'd never gotten this drunk around boys. They could have easily taken an advantage of her. The way she cluelessly followed my lead, or should I say stumble, was all too easy.

Brat wasn't a big girl, but her lack of balance placed her dead weight on me. I could see why being the sober friend is no fun. Total buzzkill. I didn't sign up to babysit. I had to really ask myself what Brat's intentions were for inviting me to the party. Was this all really for the job? I couldn't bring myself to believe so. I felt used. I felt like she needed a sidekick.

I tried to kick my negative thoughts to the curb. Maybe Brat really cherished me as a friend. Maybe she does fully trust me. Maybe I allow her to blossom into a person she never has the opportunity to be otherwise.

I let my thoughts pass. They weren't important. Not important enough for me to do anything about it. I plopped Brat onto her bed, and picked up both of her legs placing them neatly under her blanket. She was so gone. I didn't know if she even knew where she was. I watched the sleeping beauty in amazement. I felt like a mother that tucked her child in bed to prepare for school the next morning.

She was fully clothed, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. She looked comfortable to me. It looked like she had drifted off to sleep as soon as her head greeted her pillow. I took my clothes off and slid to the opposite end of the bed, making sure I was surrounded with blankets.

I was at peace now. All of that worrying I did could finally subside. I was mentally exhausted. One might feel proud of themselves for putting themselves through such a stressful event, but I didn't feel proud. Only drained. I did find satisfaction in the fact that I was able to properly wind down in the bed. At least I could undress myself and comfortably prepare to drift off. Brat looked like a sloppy pig. I never wanted to be that way.

I pass no judgement on her. She's my baby, but I'd never want to be like her. Opposites attract they say. I believe it. I often wondered why God brought us together.

I had to tell my thoughts to hush if I wanted to get any rest. I gently shuffled my body against Brat's blankets. I felt the smooth fabric soothe my skin. I was in pure bliss. With such an active mind, sleep really means a lot to me. I look forward to it more than others. I have a weird relationship with it. Sleep, and everything it entails before you finally doze off, is extraordinary to me. If I could successfully have sex with sleep, I would. That's how amazing and therapeutic it is to me.

The blankets did their job and rocked me to sleep. I'd soon be in dream land, far way from the stresses of my current reality. I thanked God for peace, and rested reassured in the fact that God would watch over me as the night passed.

I ended up waking up before Brat as usual. However, I sort of just exist and lay still in one spot for a hour or two before I feel like I can function again. I can admit I was a bit jealous of the glorious sleep she was getting. That's what those drugs do to you. I wouldn't dare wake her. I believe everyone's sleep is precious.

A hour or so passed, and Brat started to show the first signs of life. She slowly rolled onto her side and groaned.

"Uhhhhh." She grunted in pain.

I weakly lifted my head to make eye contact with her.

"You up now?" I teased.

She couldn't be bothered with my antics at the moment. She was struggling.

Brat sat up and put her hand to her forehead.

"Uhhh what the fuckkkkk! My head is banging." She complained.