He opened his eyes. He felt just a little better. Not much, but enough to not need to stay collapsed on a bed. The night couldnt end like this. He was supposed to be having fun, getting drunk with "friends", getting laid, then going home, that was the game plan. Not that he'd done any of that. Well, he'd got drunk, but he wasnt out to fuck up his liver, he was out to get people to like him. Be popular, be a contender.
He groaned as he pushed his head from the floral bedsheet, a trail of drool connecting him and it. He swatted at it with his hand, breaking the thin strand. Another push of his wobbling arms and he was rolling off the bed. Sprawled in heap, a tangled mess of limbs and clothes, on someone elses floor. What would Ma' say?
"Get up you great lummox, you got work to do"
He grunted and stood up.
Oh, god, he felt all tingly. His vision was filled with sparkles and his breathing felt really light. He bit his tounge rather hard, the feeling reminding him that he was in reallity here. He had stood up too fast. Dammit man, get a hold of yourself! You are Zach! You can stand up and walk, its not like its hard!
He staggered towards the full body mirror and placed an arm on the corner, leaning on it to steady himself. He looked ok, no puke had gotten on his clothes. He looked half asleep, but he'd be fine. Hell, he probabl-
What the fuck?
Why was everyone cheering? What had happened? He staggered downstairs, his steps slowly regaining a measure of cohesion. He was a walking pro... yeah... that was such an achievement.
He muttered a quick apology as he passed April. He really didnt know why he was apologising, but he felt like he had to. It was only polite.
He reached the backdoor and walked through it, heading towards the source of the noise
(( Zachariah Johnston continued in Rescue Mission