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The Hangover

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Last night everything was just fine, normal Saturday night, party, drinking who-the-hell-cares out of a brown paper bag, maybe slept with the chick from my Astronomy class, I don’t really remember. What I do remember, however, is being fucking confused when I woke up alone. I felt really hungover from whatever it was I drank the night before, I just felt out of sync with my usual persona. I quickly disregarded this when I rubbed my eyes clean and saw how my buddy Eric’s place looked.

When I say the words “fucking trashed” I mean them in the sense that it looked like a grenade went off in the middle of the house. Red wine spilled all over the walls, most likely from his parent’s liquor cabinet (He’s gonna be so damn screwed when they find out.), paintings ripped off the walls, couch cushion fluff dispersed across the room haphazardly; it just looked real fucking bad. And I was the only one around to take the blame. Needless to say, I got the fuck out of there. Sadly my feet weren’t agreeing with my idea to run, that hangover was really doing a number on me. I just kind of stumbled my way out in a panicky sense. As I finally got out the front door, the orange glow of the rising sun (or was it setting?) bathed my oily skin in radiance. It felt kind of nice, regardless of the fact that I had either slept through the whole damn day or I woke up way too early and was gonna pay the baggy-eyed price for it.

A few people were walking around at the hour, which I had now realized was sunset, strolling around with seemingly nothing better to do on a Sunday evening. I started trekking back to my dorm house, which was a good five miles away, hoping to get there before it got dark. I saw more people just strolling around, like they were still in the afterglow of their late night parties like I was. Some kids looked like they had a little too much to drink, because they’re clothes were ripped at the sides, and they kind of lolled around with little purpose. Poor kids. The sun was being a royal pain in my ass as I tried to hasten my walk to a jog to make it back on time, but my willpower was weak, and my strides began to fall shorter until I was back at my regular post-drunken waltz. I took a break from my attempt of a run on a nearby bus stop bench.

Ugh, my head was killing me, and I could feel the bags under my eyes weigh my eyelids open. This was hell. I took out my phone to see if my friend Brendan could pick me up. Brendan was a nice kid, smart and reliable. He was my roommate last year, and we were pretty good friends, though he seemed to grow tired of being my escort home from countless parties. I swore to myself it’d be the last time when I dialed his number. It seemed to ring forever when I started to feel hungry. The feeling wasn’t new, it was almost routine to get the munchies during my hangovers, but this hunger hit me like a tidal wave; I wanted some meat. Steak wasn’t it, and chicken just didn’t seem like what I wanted tonight. I was so consumed with my hunger that I didn’t realize Brendan answered.

“Hello? Nick, are you there? Please tell me you’re okay.”

It sounded like typical Brendan; he was a worrier by nature. He seemed a little more on edge, but exams week was coming up so I couldn’t really blame him.

“I’m fine man; I just crashed hard at Eric’s last night. Hey I’m at the bus stop at Dumont an-"

“God damn it Nick! NO!”

Brendan hung up in a state of anger that for one scared me straight, he had never really yelled at me before, and he caught me off guard. I thought about calling again, but he was obviously stressing out, so I decided to walk the rest of the way home. I ran into my friend Todd, who seemed to have gotten locked out of his house. He was clawing at the windows, probably at the feet of his asshole-ish roommate James. I hated James. I thought about saying something to Todd, but I could hear my stomach growl, and it was in a bad mood. I tried to speed up, but again to no avail. My hangover was slowly getting worse, and I started to feel really sick. One of my contacts must have fallen out because things started getting really blurry, and I felt like was going to double over if I walked faster than a shuffle.

Unless there was food, I felt like I could run four miles if I knew I was gonna eat, but being the lazy teenager that I am, I lacked the spirit to push myself. I tried calling my friend Hank, I knew he had a car, but his response was worse than Brendan’s. Hank was a short-tempered guy, but he let out a blood curdling scream before I could tell him I was only a few blocks away from his house. Everyone was being an asshole today I guess; maybe that’s why so many people were out and about. I wouldn’t want to be inside with those jerks either. After what seemed like hours at the pace I walked, I finally turned the corner back to the dorm house.

The shit storm at Eric’s house paled in comparison to the entrance to my building. Trash cans stacked up, benches overturned, kids passed out on the floor. It was a mess, but I didn’t give two shits about it because I knew I was about three minutes away from a nice warm juicy dinner. I actually increased my shuffle to a jog as I got closer, the air just felt more invigorating. I had just hurdled the last passed out kid when I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head as my face slammed to the ground. It didn’t hurt, and I quickly got up to face my attacker. It was fucking Brendan. The little bitch had hit me upside the head with a baseball bat. His expression changed to fear quickly after he realized he didn’t knock me out with one hit.

I didn’t care one bit why he did it, all I knew was that I was gonna kill the little shit, and then eat my goddamned dinner. I wanted to scream at him, but it just came out as a moany growl as I ran towards him. That hit to the head must’ve put me back in the zone because I could see clearly again. Dried blood stained my shirt from what I assumed came from the sucker punch to the back of my head. And I loved that shirt. I was gonna cook that little bitch when I got him, yeah that sounded nice… I ran with a new found purpose towards my prey as the coward stumbled back. He tripped on one of the bodies laying on the ground outside the building, and let out a weak scream as I jumped on top of him.

Brendan was a tasty snack, and the strollers who joined in on the feast agreed. We were ready to go find some more dinner inside; the smell of fresh food was intoxicating. We all climbed over the benches, “red wine” from Brendan’s carcass still dripping from our mouths. I felt like a boy in the candy store as I stared upon the vast hallways of potential dinner. I finally thought of the meat I was craving on the way home. I would make it my new goal to taste brain before the night was up.

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