From my perch just under the eaves of my lair above the street three doors down from the bar where there is apparently some sort of amplified entertainment going on, I eavesdrop.* **
“I want my birthday hug. I know, but I want another. I am going to want another before we leave too.”
“AAAiiieeeee! When did you get back? I haven’t seen you since Christmas! Are you home for the summer?”
“Shut up, man. No I mean it. Shut up. You don’t know what you are talking about. Shut up. Shut up.”
“I know I’m gonna go back to her. I know it’s a bad idea but I know I’m gonna anyway.”
“I’m just killing time before Africa. I don’t know for sure, a few weeks, something like that, but I leave on a Sunday.”
“Answer your phone. Answer your phone or you won’t know where the next party is.”
“I’m outta smokes, man. We gotta find smokes. Do you have any on ya?”
“Where’s my truck? I can’t remember where I parked my truck. I thought I parked my truck right there. Ah, I guess we’ll find it in the morning.”*** ****
*I wonder if listening from the eaves is where the word ‘eavesdrop’ came from?
** I will leave out the multiple occurances of the f-word in each sentence. To get the true feel, read aloud, much too loudly, with more f-words than you can imagine ever using in a single sentence. You will still use too few.
***This sentence needs way more f-words than you will insert. However, the alliteration with truck makes it sound oddly poetic.
****7 am update: He is up and wandering around looking for the truck. It is not on this street or that intersecting it. He has stuffed his hands into his pocket and is walking away.*****
*****He doesn’t look all the worse for the wear. I think it is the crew cut. If he had longer hair, his hair would look unkempt. I think that hair style might be one of the secrets to getting away with over-partying.