Day 276 – Meditation in the Backwaters of Outer Space – Part 3

Word count: 762

Headache. Rhinos charging through the African planes of his Broca Divide: light only hindered them, playing the lion to the gazelle’s chase. Mouth as dry as a drought on the Nile; breath as bad as a stagnant quagmire: he needed water, lots of water.

The warm dark place that was under his covers sheltered him from the outside world. It was the morning after what he could only assume had been a fantastic night before. Though his mind had blanked all the memories out and replaced them with shearing pains of blackness, he felt incredibly happy that he had survived the wedding. For a whole two weeks he did not have to speak to either his brother or his now-wife. It was time for celebrating! It was time for tea!

With all his enthusiasm bubbling, he – against his better judgement – threw off the covers and dived out into the cold, merciless air in just his boxers. The kitchen was just a few brave leaps on the cold wooden floor away, but before he could even reach the threshold to his door, something stirred in his bed that he could not have anticipated and would have rather avoided.

“Hey Jack, where are you going?” The hidden female voice was familiar.
Jack panicked, could he name this girl within the next three seconds? What had he to do? “Morning!” he dashed out of the bedroom and into the safety of the kitchen. In a move of comfort, he stuck the kettle on. As the water rose to boiling, he thought relentlessly, mentally flicking through the images of all the girls at the wedding last night as he were searching through a photo album. Kirsty, Katie, Katherine, why did all these women begin with K? Liz, Nancy, D… someone with D? Deirdre? At least it wasn’t K, though that might have been her bra size.

Kettle boiled. A new dilemma: two cups? He guessed it would be rude not to, but what does she take? Milk? What if she’s lactose intolerant? Sugar? What if she goes hyperactive? What if she didn’t like tea? Oh god had he really been with a suffocatingly chic coffee drinker who knew a Starbucks from a Costa at the whiff of the Italian aromatics? He suddenly felt very disappointed in himself. Tea: she would be bloody well getting tea and liking it. He poured two cups: milk and two each.
“Morning,” he waltzed back into the bedroom with renewed courage. “I brought er…tea.”
The large lump in the bed stirred and soon, like a mole burrowing its way up to the top, he saw a snout, a pair of goggly eyes, a tuft of blond hair and finally the entire grotesque face of none other than the worst possible candidate for a one-night stand: Emma’s sister.
He nearly dropped the tea, “Oh god,” he shuddered involuntarily – perhaps they had just slept?
“Morning sweetie,” Regina gave a little wave from behind the covers.
Regina was two years older than Emma and unfortunately had not been blessed with half as much looks as her younger sister, who was averagely pretty at best. Regina, as unkind as it was to say, was not of the average-weight social category and probably had nearly as much cellulite as Jack had trophies on his favourite computer games. Instead and especially lying in that particular position upon his divan, she resembled something more of a beached whale than a beach babe.
Jack scrambled through the memories of last night. Had she slipped him the date rape? He certainly had been drinking rather a lot… but that was nothing short of normal. Did he even remember making the speech? Wait, there were bits of that… perhaps he was just being drunk and shouting though. The send-off? Why did he remember spray paint and rotten eggs? There images of glasses full of green and purple. They were pretty. That is all that he had to note on them. He couldn’t even recall talking to Regina at the wedding, though he definitely saw her around – she could hardly be missed.

But answers could wait. Jack needed a plan: he needed a battle tactic. As quick as he was to come up with a plan to fake his own death, he soon realised that he did not have the tools for such an elaborate scheme right this moment and unfortunately the results would last only as long as it took for his brother to return from honeymoon. He needed something less drastic, but equally mental. He needed to… he needed to….

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~ by S.G. Mark on July 9, 2012.

One Response to “Day 276 – Meditation in the Backwaters of Outer Space – Part 3”

  1. He seems like a bit of a cock, but I still kinda like Jack…

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