Bedtime Stories for Grownups
Another Day, Another Disaster
I WOKE WITH A START when the garbage truck dropped the dumpster behind my townhouse. Oh, my head. I snuggled up against Jane and cupped her breast in my hand as we spooned together in bed, my hard cock wedged comfortably between her ass cheeks. She moaned a little and turned to kiss me good morning.
Fucking hell! This wasn’t Jane.
And the worst day of my life began.
Again.
I was dazed. I still felt Suze’s breast beneath my hand. I still felt my cock wedged in her crack. How did I get here? I’d fallen asleep on a mission cot.
“What day is it?” I asked.
“Thursday, February 14, silly. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
The disorientation was too much. I felt my drunk coming up and scrambled to the toilet. A dream? It couldn’t have been. It was too real. I’d lived yesterday. Today.
I started running water in the shower, drank a couple glasses, and got under the spray. I pissed. I heaved again. I stood there wishing it was all a bad dream. Yesterday. Today. My life.
If anything, the face in the mirror looked worse than yesterday. I was not only looking at an angry, hung-over bastard, but a scared one. I grabbed my jeans and T-shirt and then paused to pull on a wool sweater and socks. I remembered being cold all day.
In the kitchen, Suze with her bare butt peeking from beneath my T-shirt turned and handed me a cup of coffee. I tried to smile at her and she actually chuckled. Not everything was identical to the dream, then. She’d already wished me a Happy Valentine’s Day. I winced through the blender and took the V8 concoction from her drinking it a little more slowly.
“We have a problem,” I said.
“She’s on her way over.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Tell her you lost your job, got drunk, and fucked her best friend. That would be a good start.”
“You’re not pregnant now, are you?” I asked.
“This is a fine time to think of that.” I heard the front door open.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Jane called as she walked into the kitchen. “It looks like you started without me.”
“I can explain,” I started. Fuck! “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.” That sense of everything being the same but different hit me as I shoved my feet into my shoes and grabbed my jacket. I paused to grab my keys and wallet, too. I learned something.
“Dallas!” Jane called. I closed the door behind me and started off, not knowing where I’d go.
It wasn’t until I rounded the corner and saw the crowd at the bus stop that I realized what was happening. I froze and turned my back as I heard the tires squealing on the pavement and the screams that followed. I ran.
A block away I stopped and puked up the red mixture Suze had served me. It burned going down and it burned coming back up. I headed toward a café I knew and had only gone a few steps when I heard a gunshot from the direction of the accident. I turned away from the café and headed toward the freeway. I couldn’t take this. I couldn’t go through this day again. No one stopped for me. I just kept walking. I don’t know how long I walked. I saw the lights of a truck stop and walked toward them.
The special was a stuffed pork chop with the truckers’ buffet. I ate. I kept getting refills for my coffee. I sat there for two hours and well into the third. There were a couple other guys there who looked vaguely familiar.
“Why don’t you just pay me when you’re ready,” my waitress said. She pushed the plastic wallet toward me. She’d put it down an hour ago. “You can pay, can’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah. Sure,” I answered. I got my wallet and removed a hundred-dollar bill. “Here. Keep the change.” She stared at the bill and at me and at my wallet.
“Mister…”
“It’s real. Sorry I took so long.”
“Anytime. Anytime.”
I left the diner, looked out past the pumps toward the highway, and started walking. I was just beyond the pools of light when a car raced up next to me and one of the guys I’d seen in the diner rolled down the window.
“Need a lift?”
“Thanks. I reached for the back door handle and it suddenly swung open, hitting me in the face and knocking me down. The other fellow I’d seen landed on top of me with his knee in my gut. “Get the wallet, Stu. He’s loaded,” the guy in the car yelled. He grabbed my wallet and then gave me a good kick in the face. I blacked out as the car roared away.
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