Cinco de WASTED: The Last Party & Epilogue

I’m walking past the garage on Parkwood and I’m running my fingers along the side of the building.

I push open the door to their place and I’m greeted, surprisingly, by most of the people in the room. There was a blur of a group in front of me. To my left a table with a hookah and some kids. I greeted them; Mark, Katrina, Jerilyn, Candice, Edrick, Gary, Malaika, I think, I don't know, maybe more, maybe less. Apparently through pictures, I went around the place, sat down next to Malaika and chatted. I told Malaika to help me back when we go back to the building because I will need the help. She agreed and said something about what she drank tonight.

We’re all laughing out on the patio and I bust into the house and collapse onto the sofa. According to pictures, I’m there for quite a while. Specifics are hard to remember, I remember images of me laughing, me talking to people about the menu of alcohol I had that night. I consumed another beverage, beer, tequila, antifreeze? I had no idea, by then my taste buds have lost all function. I took whatever it was and drank it whole.

In the back yard I’m lying on the gravel. The gravel feels so cool against my cheek. I say “oh these clothes” in my best Peter voice I can while writhing on the ground.

I’m stumbling somewhere, but I’m not moving on my own free will.
“Come on man lets get you inside.” The mystery voice was kind. “How much did you have to drink?” I say something, probably a shape of some sort.

All I see is red, a deep scarlet red. The smell is acrid and sweet at the same time. I look up and see a blur of yellow, black, and white. I notice I’m hanging over a trashcan filled with the drinks of the past hour and a half. Where am I? I look around more, notice that this place was empty, and the exact mirror image of the place I was at. I’m next door, the calm room. Looking out the window I see the familiar people on the porch. “You alright man?” It’s the guy who helped me. “Yeah, I’m,” I pause to collect myself, and let my stomach settle, “I’m good.” I get up and try to make out who this guy was. He’s about my height, maybe a little taller, and wearing a track jacket. Well whoever this guy was, thanks.

I stumble out of the front door, I hit someone with it, it doesn’t faze me. Malaika is there on the porch talking to some guys. She turns to me and says, “Hey I was looking for you! Are you ready to go?”

“I’m ready to go,” I respond, slurring exponentially, “Are you ready to go?” Did she respond? I don't know. I started walking down the steps, hearing goodbyes by the passer bys and destined to get back and sleep.

I rest up against the garage and tell Malaika to hold on. I sit down and feel something bubble in my stomach. I turn over and jam my head into a corner. I’ve found that its not the actual throwing up that makes you throw up, its that nasty taste of stomach acid in your mouth that makes you throw up. I begin my regime of spitting, clutching my stomach. “Oh my god is he ok?!” It’s Micah, definitely Micah. “Yeah he is, just had too much to drink,” Malaika responds like my PR person and I’m some drunk socialite. I see a flash, great, pictures, I might as well be a socialite. I roll back over and sit, It feels cool. Malaika reassures me its ok to rest, but we should get moving, wouldn't want to get caught by the cops.

Malaika and I are outside of Johnson and I’m trying to compose myself. I pull out my ID card and wait while she says goodbye to someone. “You ready?” she asks. Ready as I’ll ever be, I think. We make it up the steps, swipe our cards, and go to the elevator. Once in the elevator I breath a sigh of relief and collapse onto the metal walls.






Epilogue

I wake up, Its afternoon. I’m on top of my sheets, in the clothes I was wearing last night. I reach up for my glasses. They’re not there. Shit, countless weekends of parties and I lose my glasses right before finals. I roll out of bed. My Head feels like its in a vice and my mouth is bone dry. I grab a water bottle out of fridge and drink. I almost gag, It tastes like tequila. I grab one of my propels, I don't gag this time so I drink as much of it as I can. I make my way out of the room and head to the bathroom. I do my business and head back to my room. While unlocking my door I see Ryan coming out of his room. There’s an awkward moment. Do I say hi? He’s thinking it too. Sensing the awkward moment we simultaneously move on to something else. I open the door, shut it behind me, and collapse onto my bed.