It's been done

Boogus Epirus Aurelius · November 01, 2010, 10:38:32 PM

So Saturday night I was carousing the bars in a perfect state of chemical zen, happy to be where I was and not really concerned about where I might end up (hopefully under a roof somewhere). Things were peachy keen until I started getting that post party nudge at the back of my head.

These sort of things can only end two ways for me.

1. I sort of grow into this super comfortable state where I retain my Ã¢â,¬Å"drunkenÃ¢â,¬Â lack of inhibition and restraint and sort of gain this higher awareness. This is usually more prevalent when IÃ¢â,¬â,,¢m slipping down in a nice environment with good friends.

2. I devolve into a sour stomached, headache ridden micro-zombie who wants silence.

Option two was something my squirming head was lighting upon. I realized this at a point before I started falling into my mushy mock stupor, and decided to not wait until bar close (which was coming fast) and walk the minor distance back to my apartment where I would nurse my head and my deteriorating disposition with a heiniken and some Paul Simon. All is good that ends well.

After receiving the expected catcalls from my friends and making it clear that it was fine for anyone to crash in my stuffy living room if they didnÃ¢â,¬â,,¢t want to or couldnÃ¢â,¬â,,¢t venture home, I started down the street.

I suppose I was a little less coordinated than I had originally gauged. I could feel that swimmy sort of heat sloshing around in my psyche. My feet were stuttering and jiving and my arms were keeping me barely afloat.

IÃ¢â,¬â,,¢m about halfway home when I decide to look behind me. Nobody on the street except for me. But there was something else. Another look.

ThereÃ¢â,¬â,,¢s something moving behind me, but all I can make out is the face which is white and expressionless and incredibly terrifying under the orange glow of the sodium lamps. I move faster, my jumbled feet dancing down the sidewalk in a clumsy gait. I do another glance back, and the face is moving faster, but now itÃ¢â,¬â,,¢s more than a face. I can make out a black robe underneath, but this is even more unsettling. It looks like the thing is fucking gliding along the sidewalk.

Somehow my brain decided it was ok to start running and my body actually got the message. I bolted. I sprinted. I was absolutely running all out towards my building.

I got to the door, fumbled with my keys and looked up the street to see the face, still gliding along in rigid form. I got the door open , fell inside and locked it.

Keeping the lights off, I approached the window, pulling open the bottom slat of my blind. There it was, the face and the robe, moving down towards the sidewalk in front of my building. It passes half of it and just as IÃ¢â,¬â,,¢m convinced that itÃ¢â,¬â,,¢ll pass, the face changed directions violently and walked across the lawn to the window IÃ¢â,¬â,,¢m looking out. I squirm backwards, knocking over something off of the end table. Then a knock at the door.

IÃ¢â,¬â,,¢m too fucking freaked to look out the window again, so I cower behind the ratty lay-z-boy in hopes that itÃ¢â,¬â,,¢ll go away.

Then my phone rings.

Ã¢â,¬Å"Hey, itÃ¢â,¬â,,¢s Dave. ******(name excluded) said you were fine with people crashing here tonight. IÃ¢â,¬â,,¢m outside.Ã¢â,¬Â

I touch my fake moustache and wig, realizing for the first time in a while that I had them on and that I may be less functional than I originally thought.

I turned up Paul Simon and opened the door.