A couple of little pieces

Note: Taking my cue from James Frey, parts of the following story are true, parts are fictional. You decide.

Saturday morning.
I struggle up through the layers of my hazy, alcohol-soaked brain and open my eyes to the darkness. I slowly evaluate my surroundings – Bedroom. Dark. Dizzy. I am. Still drunk.
I don’t so much fall back asleep as pass out.

Morning. Head hurts.
My recollection of the previous night is spotty, but the wine…I do remember the wine. Merlot. Can’t believe I was actually drinking f***ing Merlot! Damn, no wonder I feel so bad. Wait, there was a white wine in there somewhere. God, I HAVE to quit mixing my drinks.

And for some reason there is a knot on the back of my head and a bruise on my arm. What the…?

Back to sleep.

Later.
Phone ringing, ringing, ringing.

“Yeah?”
“Wow, are you OK?” asks my boyfriend Ken.
“Uh. Dunno.”
“You really kicked ass last night!”
“Huh?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Uh, I guess not.”
“A bunch of Ninjas crashed the party and you totally took them on and kicked all their assess! It was totally Crouching Tiger !”
A vague memory of hanging in midair while in a perfect martial arts-style pose flickers in my memory. Cool. I always wanted to do that.
I hope I hadn’t hurt anyone TOO badly.

Suddenly, a dreadful, coherent thought pierced my brain: Last night I was wearing a BRAND NEW JACKET.
To hell with the condition of the Ninjas, what about my new jacket??? Dammit!

“Honey, where’s my new jacket?”
“What jacket?”
“The one I was wearing last night. You know, my new short denim jacket. It was brand new! And I looked hot in it!”
“Oh yeah, you got some wine on it. But golly, babe, you really rocked the house! Everyone’s still talking about it!”

I slammed the phone down and leaped, I mean crawled, out of bed. I began pawing through the layers of debris littering my bedroom floor - books, empty wine bottles, crack vials, martial arts supplies – until I located my clothes from the previous night. And there it was – my new jacket, still intact (miraculously, considering all the kick-ass Ninja activity I was apparently involved in), but with a large purple wine stain marring the left sleeve. Shit! Ruined by Merlot again.

I crawled back into bed.

I vow to never drink again.

For the ten millionth time.

This post is dedicated to Ninjas