Solo #73: Halloween Hangovers
What did she remember about Halloween? Other than getting completely knockered on Everclear and “blood”, losing the eating contest to skinny-a**-Kess and then kissing Kess and yelling at Marlo for being an evil soul-sucker...
Not much.
So it didn't do much to explain why she was waking up in Marlo's guest room in a Tee-shirt and a pair of half-on-half-off pajama pants. How in the hell had she gotten here? And why wasn't she still bloody and goopy- cleaning sheets was what he had maids for, wasn't it?
Oh. Wait-
She hadn't remembered the way to her new apartment, and she hadn't texted him her new address. “Yer not trusty.” she'd told him, and pointed at her little wooden treasure chest. “You want to pirate my booty.” So when she had finally given up on finding her house, and he had looked about to strangle her, he had instead taken her home, given her refuge for the night.
She'd kissed him.
How exactly the shirt and pants came into play was yet to be determined. Her hair was still damp and she was faux-blood-free, so she must have showered. Stumbling into his living room, her pirate hat was on top of a lamp shade, and her boots were next to his patio door. Her pirate dress was a heap on his guest room floor, fake blood seeping into his white ******** a DUCK.
Ugh, she was going to puke. She bolted for the bathroom, making it just in time. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. Everclear was evil, much more evil than she had dubbed Marlo Xanis. It took about fifteen minutes before she stumbled to her feet, washed out her mouth. She could either steal his clothes, or she could put back on that nasty, blood-crusted pirate dress.
Did he at least have a nicer shirt? She crept across the living room, testing his doorknob. Unlocked- haHA! She pushed it open, moved to his closet as quietly as a hung-over person could creep, and cursed as she stubbed her toe. If she woke him, he didn't say anything, so she robbed him quickly of a nice- ugh, pink- shirt and crept back out of his room, leaving his closet open, but closing his door.
Okay. Black pajama pants and a pink dress shirt. That was going to be fun, getting home in this, carrying her costume. She shoved her feet into her pirate boots, stumbled out his door, hearing it click behind her. Oh fudgeamonkey! She'd left her treasure chest on his couch. And her hat was still his lamp shade.
It was 8:32 when she stumbled into work, dressed for the day in a pair of nice black slacks and a grey silk top. Only half an hour late. Geoff glared, but she was on top of the-
Oh, porcelain gods, her head hurt.
What did she remember about Halloween? Other than getting completely knockered on Everclear and “blood”, losing the eating contest to skinny-a**-Kess and then kissing Kess and yelling at Marlo for being an evil soul-sucker...
Not much.
So it didn't do much to explain why she was waking up in Marlo's guest room in a Tee-shirt and a pair of half-on-half-off pajama pants. How in the hell had she gotten here? And why wasn't she still bloody and goopy- cleaning sheets was what he had maids for, wasn't it?
Oh. Wait-
She hadn't remembered the way to her new apartment, and she hadn't texted him her new address. “Yer not trusty.” she'd told him, and pointed at her little wooden treasure chest. “You want to pirate my booty.” So when she had finally given up on finding her house, and he had looked about to strangle her, he had instead taken her home, given her refuge for the night.
She'd kissed him.
How exactly the shirt and pants came into play was yet to be determined. Her hair was still damp and she was faux-blood-free, so she must have showered. Stumbling into his living room, her pirate hat was on top of a lamp shade, and her boots were next to his patio door. Her pirate dress was a heap on his guest room floor, fake blood seeping into his white ******** a DUCK.
Ugh, she was going to puke. She bolted for the bathroom, making it just in time. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. Everclear was evil, much more evil than she had dubbed Marlo Xanis. It took about fifteen minutes before she stumbled to her feet, washed out her mouth. She could either steal his clothes, or she could put back on that nasty, blood-crusted pirate dress.
Did he at least have a nicer shirt? She crept across the living room, testing his doorknob. Unlocked- haHA! She pushed it open, moved to his closet as quietly as a hung-over person could creep, and cursed as she stubbed her toe. If she woke him, he didn't say anything, so she robbed him quickly of a nice- ugh, pink- shirt and crept back out of his room, leaving his closet open, but closing his door.
Okay. Black pajama pants and a pink dress shirt. That was going to be fun, getting home in this, carrying her costume. She shoved her feet into her pirate boots, stumbled out his door, hearing it click behind her. Oh fudgeamonkey! She'd left her treasure chest on his couch. And her hat was still his lamp shade.
It was 8:32 when she stumbled into work, dressed for the day in a pair of nice black slacks and a grey silk top. Only half an hour late. Geoff glared, but she was on top of the-
Oh, porcelain gods, her head hurt.
