Signal Flare

Posted: May 31, 2012 in Uncategorized

“Not this again.” The words came in a hoarse croak, something only vaguely human, let alone English, but they came. Pushing up on his elbows to accomplish a grossly obtuse angle, he looked around an unfamiliar living room, the sounds of empty aluminum cans hitting the floor as he shifted his weight on the couch. Everything had a glossy shine to it, so he blinked his eyes hard, but then everything got blurrier. Another hard blink and a vigorous rub of the eyes, and now everything was dark and blurry. He groaned and fell back to his resting position.

The sounds of running water and clinking metal and ceramics told him someone else was in the home, probably doing the dishes. He was familiar with the inevitable exchange. The responsible one of the home’s residents was up early putting out the fires of the previous night’s festivities, and they wouldn’t be happy to see his drunken ass sprawled out on their couch looking for breakfast. Still, there was a thin blue sheet on top of him where there was previously nothing, and maybe he ought to at least say thanks, figure out where he was and how to get home, and take the last couple of dollars out of his wallet and pay the man for the lodgings.

Either that or he could get a short stack of pancakes and try to sober up for tonight.


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