sloppy foz (part two)
the shower, like everything at 3am after a baker’s dozen drinks and supplemental bowl tokes, seemed to last forever. whatever energy I had rekindled upon the Greek’s sudden arrival was fading fast. naturally I mixed a nightcap.
my highball all but drained, the Greek burst out of the bathroom not unlike his unannounced entrance thirty minutes prior. he looked just as disheveled, save for a wet head and even less clothing. I immediately guided him to his temporary wardrobe of pajama pants, tee shirt and robe. I was wearing the exact same thing.
“What. The. Fuck. Dude.”
he replied with giggles, maniacal giggles and his trademark ear-to-ear grin. I would’ve begun to grow impatient had I not been completely, utterly fucked up to the nines.
“Can you drive?” he asked.
“Fuck no, I can’t drive. Why?”
“I’ll drive, then. Can we use your car?”
“Will you explain to me what the fuck is going on if I say ‘yes’?”
he was already halfway out the door. I had no fucking clue where we were going, not to mention pretty much anything else.1 year ago