[Writing prompt courtesy of textsfromlastnight.com; time = 15 minutes]
The number of times I’ve puked in the Walgreens bathroom is becoming way too much for my pride. Whatever’s left of it anyways. That girl ripped my balls off with volition, sprinkled with determination. My fault, really. The drinking is, well, a problem. The intersection of bars, liqour stores, this Walgreen’s and her house is too convenient. But you know what? Fuck her. We met on a bar crawl for fuck’s sake. She thought it was cute when I slurred my gangta words at her. She was cute too. Ahh, Kendra. With her blonde hair all long and pretty to one side, matted and sweaty to the other. She had to lean against the wall just to maintain eye contact.
Fine. I’m the irresponsible one. Maybe I shouldn’t have lit that cat on fire. Maybe I shouldn’t have cussed out the bouncer as he was throwing me out of the bar. But she’s no angel! Oh no, what about that one time, she took her shoes off, ran across the street and hit that random girl in the head with the heel of her pump, just because she didn’t say ‘Excuse me’ when she passed her from the washroom? There was blood involved, Kendra! But oh no, I’m the asshole. Oh oh, another round into the Porcelain King.
28 days. We’ve known each other for 28 days. Wasn’t that a zombie apocalypse movie? Yeah, same shit. She ripped my heart out and made me watch her eat it. I need help, she says. I have a problem, she says. You know what? You didn’t have a problem with me buying you drinks, buying all your whore girlfriends drinks, buying all their fuck buddies’ drinks! I went the extra mile to fit in. What does she do? NOTHING. I have to hang out with her friends, go to the bar she likes. I bought two silk shirts for her. For. HER. I even know what she likes to drink and how she likes it made. I know her drink.
I know she’s just like me. She’s probably in the women’s room right now barfing up a lung. Lemme check. Whoa! Sorry Miss. Have you seen a tall, hot, blonde chick? No? Hey, YOU fuck off. Meanie.
You know what? I’m gonna tell her about herself, right now. Her apartment is right over there. Hold on, think we’ve got one more contribution coming up. Wait. Nope. Alright, all clear. No, YOU watch where you’re going, you cocksucker! Fuck your mother! Kiss MY ass! You know what, I don’t have time for this, I’ma go. No, YOU’RE the pussy.
“Do you know that guy?”
“No! He’s some drunk talking shit. Oh fuck, his head’s bleeding. Whoa! That dude just took off! Hey man, you alright? You alright?”
“Bro. He ain’t movin’. He’s dead.”
7:04AM. Manuscript refitted to 82,834 from 90,000.
I was actually startled by the sun already being up when I rolled my spine up straight. Bobby’s had the bed to himself the entire night. He must be in doggy heaven.
Can’t really blink right now.
I discovered if I’m cold, I won’t fall asleep. Also, there are people who are not good at snark, but are determined to post comments anyways. Ahh, humanity!
The toughest thing in pulling an all-nighter is realizing you’ve just heaped on just as much work as you thought you cleared away. In my case, I discovered a fishtail in my ending chapters. Freakin’ freaky freak freak FUCK!
Sleeping on it. Best to sleep on these things.
7:10am. Going to bed now. Please leave witty, thoughtful comments. And of course, click to Follow my blog! Nothing like new friends.
Dang I’m tired.
Progress has been made. Gotten into Act Two. Dialogue is choppy, at best, and my brain’s too mushy to work in a fight scene. It’s appropriate, but I’ll literally need to sleep on it.
I learned that my friends in India are up and at ‘em 4AM my time. Namaste to all of you, and thanks for viewing my blog. Please follow, and I’ll do the same.
What else have I discovered? The soft spot on my L-bend couch is sinking. Time to create a new soft spot.
I’m giving myself two more hours. My ass hurts from sitting between the couch and floor. I really need a standing desk.
I have also discovered several people starting blogs due to National Blog Posting Month. Some are really good, and I’ve followed the ones I liked. There are several that are not so good. But I like to see the effort put forward. What the world needs is more creative writers, and less bitchers. Just sayin’.
Another discovery: my playlist is so extensive, there has YET to be a repeat in this now seven hour venture.
Cracker Barrel seems like a GREAT idea right now.
My eyes are so bleary, as much as I can see this sexy Mexican goth curandera in my head, I just can’t seem to convey her beauty in words. Let’s hope she writes herself for me.
Alright, made it through 15-minute break. Back to it!