I got off work. I drove home, ate a bowl of cereal and brushed my teeth. I picked her up. She was stunning. She was marvelous. She was unlike any other.
We went to a bar and got a drink. I excused myself to the bathroom. There was a man in there peeing. I faced the first urinal. It was filled with puke.
"Oh god, someone puked in the urinal. There's a toilet and garbage can right near it. Now someone has to clean this up," I said as I peed.
"That's too bad," he said.
"It's a Wednesday night. It's not even eleven o'clock."
"Some people can't handle their liquor."
"You should be able to make it to last call at least."
"Yeah, you should."
I washed my hands and returned to her. She smiled. I told her about the bathroom dialogue. She smiled. I smiled. We were having a good time together.
I bought her a third beer as I nursed my second. I was driving so I didn't want to exceed two beers. She was petite so she didn't want to exceed three.
I drove her back to my place. I showed her the living room. I showed her my room. We laid down in my bed. We kissed. I turned the lights off. We kissed some more.
She got up. She went outside. She puked outside. I was going to give her a ride home but she was too sick. So we laid down and listened to HTRK's Psychic 9-5 Club. It's brooding love music that's incredibly inoffensive. It's the perfect album to listen to while snuggling with someone after they've puked. Psychic 9-5 Club is as harmless as a bowl of cereal and brushing your teeth.
-Z
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