Okay I lie... well I was bored

Here's a short story I threw together due to boredom of the sickness. There is really only so much I can do when I'm sick. Pretty much brought to you by cough drops and extra strength cold medicine. Enjoy! ***I must warn you, I swear like a sailor when I'm drugged up!

What the fuck is her name? Come on it’s in there, you remember don’t you? Blame it on the bad memory, I guess. The pure fact you were wasted and spent most of the time obviously staring at her breast probably didn’t help. Are you even sure this is her? The girl you were talking to? I mean she’s hot, but who the fuck knows! Did you actually look at her face while you were running your mouth trying to get her in bed? Damn it. Well she’s in your bed and you have no clue what her name is. Her blond hair splayed out over your nasty old pillow. She has dark circles under her eyes from last night’s makeup. After peaking under the blankets you realize that yes, she’s naked. She looks amazing naked. Nice, but you don’t even remember fucking her. Did you fuck her? Maybe she drugged you and took advantage of your drugged up state. Yeah right. Why the hell would she do that? You look over at a glass and take a sip, spitting it back out after realizing it was vodka and not water. Fucking harsh vodka, you can still feel it in your mouth from last night. It mixes against your morning breath making you taking a few seconds to cough the taste off. Why would you want that this morning? You carefully throw back the blankets, trying hard not to wake up the chick in your bed. You’re light headed and the room spins for a while before you can get your balance. Carelessly grabbing those nasty boxers off the floor, you sneak off to the bathroom. The light flickers on slowly and you wipe off the grunge of the mirror so you can see yourself. God that’s nasty, you remember why you want to move out of this shit hole you call home. You look like shit, hair sticking straight up and drool staining the slide of your cheek. You have a huge bruise on your chest, which is only exaggerated by a gash running down your arm. That definitely should be something you’d remember. The blood is dried on to your flesh and as you wash it off it stings like a bitch. Damn, what the hell happened? You remember talking to the girl that’s assumingly in your bed over a smoke outside. The two of you headed back into the party to take a shot. Of course you were trying to impress her even though you’re not a shot kind of guy. That’s it though, nothing more after that point. So you blacked out, right? Not like that’s the first time or anything. You finish cleaning yourself up and take a piss. You glance at yourself one more time, shaking your head before you stumble into the living room. Damn you look rough! The living room looks like a sea filled with people. There are articles of clothing lying about. A few people embracing the person next to them, their bodies meshed together. There are others lying curled up alone, looking like they wanted the warmth of someone else but passed out before they could achieve that goal. After rummaging through the countless amounts of passed out people, you find what you remember to be her purse. How the hell do you remember her purse and not her name? Well that’s beyond you. You look around to make sure no one sees you carrying her purse into the hall. Shit they’re all out, why do you even bother? After unzipping the thing you find a wallet on top, bingo! There it is, her id staring you in the face. Yes, that’s the one, the girl sleeping in your bed. Melissa, she’s 23 and an organ donor. Well that settles that question, thank god! You wonder if the other question you have about last night will be answered. You also wonder if you really care or would want to know. You set down her purse and wonder back to your room, crashing back on your bed. There goes being sneaky! She moans and tosses the blankets off of her head. She stretches her arms, exposing her breasts. She glances over at you with those green eyes still full of sleep. “Shit what happened,” she asks, “and I’m sorry but who the hell are you?”