A/N: I'm back! You guys are amazing. You lift me up with your words of encouragement and make me want to dream bigger every day. Thank you for your support. It means the world to me. :)
This chapter is in EPOV because it's been almost a week and our boy has been missing you all tremendously. So enjoy! ;)
Chapter-28: Canal
Word Prompt: Canal
Dialogue Flex: "I'm fed up with everything."
Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
I used to think that at the age of 27, binge drinking with my best friends isn't that big of a deal. I thought I was right … until tonight.
The night out with Jasper and Ben started great. We were three buddies having a fuckawesome time … until Jasper suggested we go to a small hole-in-the-wall type pub for binge drinking, and I, being the dumbest fucker on the planet, agreed.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
"Nothing's gonna work, man," Jasper laments in his whiniest voice. "I'm fed up with everything. I'm gonna die alone."
Being the emotional drunk he is, Ben reaches over me to pat Jasper on the head as if he was patting a dog. "It'll get better, man," he almost croons to him. "Everything will get better, I promise."
I move my head away from the firing line to avoid spittoons flying off Ben's mouth landing on my extremely pretty face.
A foolish grin stretches on my lips as I think of my face as pretty. Bella calls me pretty. I miss Bella.
To say that we are very drunk will be a big ass understatement.
Jasper punches my shoulder pretty hard and scowls at me.
"Dude! Quit throwing punches at me," I complain loudly.
His face remains unimpressed by my very impressive impersonation of his whiny ass as he tells me, "I'm in a crisis here, Ed. So be a good best friend and stop smiling like you're auditioning for a fucking toothpaste commercial."
I can't believe he could talk to me like that. So in retaliation, I do what any self-respecting grown man would've done—I stick my tongue out and blow a raspberry at him.
"You got dumped by Maria 'the bitch' Sanchez for the fourth fucking time, you ass. I think it's time you looked into other options," I say solemnly.
Jasper tries to glare at me, but ends up crossing his eyes. "I've two things to tell you. First, don't take that bitch's name in front of me. I'm finished with her," he declares and then lets out a loud burp.
I exchange a hopeless look with Ben and wait patiently for Jasper to continue, but he just stares at the Strawberry Daiquiri in his hand. Oh yeah, in case you didn't know, depressed drunk Jasper prefers girly cocktails.
When he doesn't speak, Ben pipes up, "And the second?"
Jasper turns his glazed up eyes on us and asks back, looking completely clueless, "Second what?"
"You were talking about Maria," I prompt him helpfully.
Apparently, he doesn't know jack about appreciating helpful friends because the asshole tries to punch me again.
Lucky for me, I have the reflexes of a ninja. So, I duck out of the way of his mitts just in time for that fist to connect with Ben's jaw instead.
"J, what the fuck, bro?" Ben looks at Jasper like he has just told him that he's gone gay and he'll take any dick except Ben's in his ass. "I thought you loved me!"
Emotional asshole.
An untimely and little bit unmanly giggle escapes me when I repeat what my highly intellectual mind has just conjured up.
"Yeah, Jasper, tell Benny Bean that you love his dick!"
The scorching looks my friends throw in my way tell me that maybe I spoke out loud.
Oopps.
Ben tries to glare at me through his bespectacled eyes and ends up squinting instead. "Did you just talk about my dick?"
"Yep," I reply with an affirmative nod. "Little Benny Bean Ben."
Without another word, Ben throws a punch at me and ends up punching his own face—how? I don't even know.
Fuck! That's gotta hurt!
He topples over from his stool and then lands ass-first on the floor. He sits up looking a little dazed. And then his eyes land on me. "You punched me!"
"No, you punched yourself," I clarify.
"Yeah, I saw it happen," Jasper tries to vouch for my innocence. And that's the moment when Ben scrambles up on his feet and launches his skinny ass body at the two of us.
"You two hate me! Why? Why do you hate me?" he keeps on saying while trying to aim a fist at Jasper and poke me in the eye with his elbow.
That's when we hear a gruff voice.
"Break it up, kids. You don't want to get hurt."
I push Ben's elbow from my line of vision and look at the guy standing over our tangled limbs. He looks like he's about my father's age with a full-on handlebar mustache going on.
In my drunken eyes, he looks like a giant. So, I let my mouth fly again. "Hey! You look like Hulk Hogan, the wrestler, I mean. You know the one with that stupid mustache?"
His smile falls, and to me, he looks like a bull ready to charge me with its horns raised. "Did you just call my mustache 'stupid', boy?"
Now the intelligent thing to do in this situation would've been to shake my head, lie and then probably vomit—just to get sympathy from the old man.
But the inebriated mind is anything but dishonest. So, I grin up at him, stand up and say sweetly, "Yes, sir. That would be correct."
And then I puke my guts out … on The Hulk Hogan of Seattle's clean and pressed plaid shirt.
"Boy! I feel like a perched canal," I tell him after wiping my mouth on his shirt tail. "Maybe I need another drink."
He looks like he would've loved nothing more than to shoot my brains out as he says through gritted teeth, "You better run, sunshine. Now!"
"Why? The party's just …"
"Ended," Jasper finishes for me and grabs the back of my head while tugging Ben up with his other hand. "We're gone," he tells Hulk Hogan and then pulls us out of the bar.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
"Fuck! I gotta pee," Ben complains when the chilly night air hits us.
For once, I agree with him. "Me too," I say before pointing out to a car parked ahead of us. "Hey, Benny, let's go pee behind that car. There's no plant to water around here anyway."
He nods, and we pull Jasper with us. When we reach the car, we stand in a single line and spray the back with our own version of yellow rain.
I crack up at the thought. Yellow rain. I'm a fucking riot tonight.
"What the hell are you doing to my car?" We hear the gruff voice of the Hogan Wannabe holler from behind us.
So we do what any smart guy would do. We pull up our pants and then run the fuck away from there.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
The next day, I realize that Drunk Edward is the King of Stupid Fucktards.
A/N: Yeah, I might have been a wrestling fan while growing up. ;)
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Thank you for reading.
I missed you guys a lot. :*
See you tomorrow.
Take care.
Ann
