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I opened the door to the refrigerator. The bulb was burnt out and the only things inside were half empty condiment containers and a bunch of soy sauce packets. Why the hell does everyone always have a million of those god damn things anyway? I slid an old carton of milk to the side to find a lone bottle of Zima. I didn’t care where it came from or the last time any store sold them.

I grabbed the beer and stumbled back to the sofa that doubled as a makeshift bed, carefully stepping over some tattooed raven haired girl passed out on the floor.

What was today? Tuesday? Thursday? It was hard to keep track. The days blended together into one giant raging partygasm.

Whatever. Better to be alive today than never.

I poured half the beer into a whiskey glass that was covered in smudged finger prints. I reached under the sofa helplessly feeling around for a bottle of Jack Daniels that I knew was there. I finally caught it between my fingers and dragged it out to the top of the messy coffee table.

Half beer, half whiskey. The perfect morning…afternoon….what time was it?

THE PERFECT DAYTIME PICK ME UP.

My phone suddenly started to ring. “HIGHWAAAAAY TO THE DAAAAAAANGER ZONEEEEEEE” screeched from beneath one of the cushions. I had it as loud as possible. The raven haired girl fidgeted as if she were about to wake up. I answered as quickly and quietly as possible.

“Yeah, what, man?” I hissed.

“The fuck are you?” JB asked a little too enthusiastically for it to be morning.

I ran my hand through my hair and looked around the room.

“I have no fucking clue,” I said while taking a sip of the whiskey concoction and staring at the half shaven head of the girl. “I mean, I think I might be in South Philly. I’ll check my GPS and send you an address. Get me.”

“Yeah, alright. Be quick about it. We have that meeting in an hour,” added JB.

“FUCK!” I said entirely too loud. The girl pulled a dirty blanket from on the floor over her head. “An hour? Jesus, it’s already 1 p.m.?”

“Hurry up and send me the address so I can get you,” JB hung up.

I checked my phone and sent him the address. I was definitely in South Philly. I just couldn’t remember HOW I got there.

I slid into my favorite pair of faded ripped-up jeans and put on my shoes. There was no time to find my missing socks. I grabbed my shirt and stepped over the girl and made my way outside, quietly closing the door behind me.

The sun was too bright and the warmth beat down on me. I pulled my black v-neck shirt over my head, and put on the sunglasses I had tucked in my pocket.

One hour until this god damned meeting,” I thought.

 

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