This is some random idea that came to me while my friends and i were all lying around on the morning after a slumber party. It just seems that, even though everyone is awake, no one EVER wants to get up. And there's always that one person who is loud enough so that you can't fall back asleep, but you can't really be awake either. and btw, i was once told that i said a version what Maureen does in my sleep at a sleepover once. please don't ask.
"Take it easy…give me the ballpoint pen, Sir Henry, or I'll eat you…don't make me get tough…"
"Ummmmf." Mark made a low noise in his throat and slumped forward, moving from a sitting position of the floor to being sort of scrunched up face-down on the loft's floor. Mimi, who was curled up in Roger's lap, groaned.
"Uhhhhh…shut the hell up, Mark…" She shifted a little and curled up tighter. From over on the couch, Angel stirred too.
"It's Maureen talking in her sleep again…" Angel didn't even open her eyes, just sighed and fell back into a light sleep. Behind her, Collins yawned in his sleep, which caused his head to fall forward against the back of Angel's neck. He gave a small snore and became still.
"No, no, noooooo…ok, I didn't want to do it, but you force my hand!...GIVE ME THE PEN OR FACE THE UNHOLY FURY OF MY SPORK!"
"Tape her mouth shut, please," moaned Roger, one hand tightening monetarily on a clump of Mimi's hair before going limp and flopping onto her ear. Joanne, who was sprawled out on the table with a newspaper on her head, snorted loudly, then started to snore.
The seven friends were gathered around the loft, although gathered is perhaps not the right word. Due to copious amounts of alcohol and just a general energy crash, they had fallen asleep together. Roger was slumped in the big squashy chair, while Angel and Collins were lying lengthwise on the couch. Mark, until recently, had been leaning against the side of the couch in a way that was going to give him a piercing back-ache when he woke up. Joanne was on the table and Mimi was on Roger's lap, while Maureen was just spread-eagled on the floor, her shirt riding up to reveal the flat white stomach beneath. As she shouted in her sleep, she rocked back and forth.
"DON'T YOU DARE ASK THE STOPLIGHT FOR HELP! I WANT THE BALLPOINT NOW!" Mark sort of gurgled and fell over onto his side in such a way that his head was shoved under the couch and one leg was doubled under his body. Angel shifted her legs around and let out a long, steady breath.
"I'm not waking up…not even if Mo starts hitting me with a shovel," muttered Mimi, fingers curling around the top of Roger's pants pocket. Her long brown hair was spread out over her entire body like a veil, and some of it fell across her face. Collins tightened his hold on Angel (one arm over her side and across her waist) slightly and ground his teeth together, his eyes darting back and forth beneath his eyelids as he dreamed.
"Ah, so it's a fight to the death…good, I thrive on adventure and frosting…no! NOT MY FROSTING! NOW YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR, SIR HENRY! EN GARDE!" Maureen flopped onto her side, one arm scrabbling around on the ground as she dueled in her sleep. Joanne grunted and stopped snoring. Angel moaned softly.
"We should get up soon…we're all awake anyway…" she said without moving or opening her eyes.
"I'm not awake…I'm dreaming. It's not against the law." Mimi also didn't move at all or blink; only spoke and then yawned. Mark mumbled something illegible and thumped the ground with one foot.
"Everyone just shut up and go back to sleep…" Roger mumbled. No one had opened their eyes at all yet, even though they were having a rather prolonged discussion.
"Roger has good ideas…listen to the boy," muttered Collins, talking for the first time. He moved his forehead a little to the left, and Angel coughed slightly.
"Now you're awake too…why the hell can't we get up?"
"Cause you won't stop talking, that's why." This was from Joanne. The newspaper fluttered as her face moved.
"All right, all right, I give…just don't hurt the ballpoint, for the love of god, don't hurt him…and if you have a soul, show mercy to the macaroni, it was only trying to eat my toe…NO! NOT THAT! ANYTHING BUT LEMONS!" Maureen was screeching again. Mimi groaned.
"It's her fault…evil little sleep-talker…"
"Throw her out the window, then we can sleep more…" Collins suggested in mumbled tones. From beneath the couch, there was a bumping sound and then a grunt.
"Why do I taste dust and tortilla chips?" came Mark's muffled voice. Angel, Collins, Roger, and Mimi all snorted with as much amusement as you can muster while three-quarters of the way asleep. Joanne suddenly moaned loudly.
"Oh my head…just how much did I drink last night?" The others were silent for a moment. Then Mimi whined, "Joanne, why'd you say that?...It started my hangover up, and oh Jesus Christ, this is painful…"
"Thanks a lot for telling, Mimi," grumbled Collins, who was pressing his forehead into the nape of Angel's neck in order to relieve the headache a bit. Angel squirmed a little to make it more comfortable and drew in her breath sharply as her own hangover came on full force.
"Ooh…someone's driving a nail into my skull or something…"
"Speak for yourself." Roger sounded especially pained. Mark's legs kicked suddenly and they could hear an agonized squeal. Joanne reached up and pulled the newspaper tight across her face.
"Ha, now Superman will stop you…take that, Sir Henry, you and your dashing left heel…no…no, I can resist…but your heel is so streamlined and so part of your foot…damn you…" Maureen was wiggling around now, arms smacking the floor and legs twisting in running motions. One shin went flying through the air and banged against Mark's hip with a painful crack. Mark shrieked and twisted under the couch. Then, with sudden agility, he squirmed out form underneath it and stood up. Dust and various ancient hard candies were stuck in his uneven hair, and his glasses were hanging precariously from one ear. His eyes were wild. Angel and Collins' eyes flew open as they felt him come out from under the couch, and at the sound of him standing, Mimi, Roger, and Joanne opened their eyes too.
"Oh, now you're leaving me? Figures…I bet it's that Spanish wench from Finland…well fine, you can go, Sir Henry, and I'll stay here with Sophia the brownie…and she's got macadamia sprinklings! Hear me? MACADAMIA!" Maureen's eyes spun wildly beneath her eyelids.
They all watched as Mark strode over to where Maureen was practically convulsing on the floor. They all watched as he stared down at her with disgust. And they all watched as he dropped to his knees, grabbed her nose, and twisted violently.
"OOCH! Wha—Sir Henry?" Maureen said confusedly, her eyes flying open. Mark glared down at her.
"BE QUIET!" he hollered. Then, with dignity, he rose, walked over to the couch, and lay down, sticking his head back under it.
"That hurt…" Maureen muttered, cupping her hands over her nose. The others had gone back to pretending to be sleeping the moment Mark lay back down. But all of them couldn't help peeking out from beneath their eyelids to watch as Maureen was suddenly and painfully hit with her very own hangover.
You might very well say that they had finally woken up.
hee hee. this was fun to write. and now...review time! funfuls, i must say...love to you all!