Holy fuck! The air is stifling, making it a challenge to breathe, and I’m fighting the urge to vomit – a result of the multiple beers and stench of weed and cigarette smoke that fills the room. We are in the house of who I assume to be the bouncer or perhaps the DJ from the club. Sophie is sitting on the lap of another woman, in a large armchair to my left. The house is brightly lit and there is loud bass-filled dance music pounding against my eardrums, adding to the feeling of suffocation. My butt doesn’t want to move from the tattered brown sofa I’m sitting on. The cloth is worn down and the cushions are all caved to the center, forcing the four guys, including myself, sitting on it to fall inward. Through the haze of smoke, I can see the girl who Sophie is sitting on running her fingers over Sophie’s thigh. I don’t recognize the other girl. I’m assuming, from the look of her, she must be one of the strippers from the club. They seem to be enjoying themselves, laughing and talking. The large brown chair seems to have aged better than this thing that I’m currently trying to escape from. My heavy arms, along with the rotating room, are making it a challenge to dislodge myself from the sofa, which appears to have molded around me. Please, I silently beg, don’t let me get sick. My stomach is churning at the thought.

Focus, you douche-bag. Here I am, in a room with two totally hot chicks feeling each other up, and one of them just happens to be the girl that I am sleeping with. These are the kinds of nights you fantasize about, and if you puke, I will literally have to punch you in the nuts.

The guy jammed into the sofa to the right of me holds a joint in my direction, which I wave off. He reeks of cologne. Remembering there is a can of beer on the floor near where I am sitting, I reach down and pick it up off the wooden floor to take a drink. Blah, cheap, shitty and now warm, but at least it’s liquid. Fresh air! I need to get up; I need to go outside; I need to join those two girls in the chair.

With my left hand on the armrest, right hand on cologne man’s shoulder, I push, and my ass rises from the sofa thanks to an additional nudge from cologne man. Thank God. The door is around behind the couch, which continues to provide support while I flounder my way outside onto the front porch. A rush of cool, refreshing air greets me as I step outside. Instantly, I begin to feel better. My legs wobble as I move over to lean against the side of the house, and my hand instinctively reaches for the pack of cigarettes that are not in my pocket. Fuck. At least the beer is still in my hand. Finishing off the warm remnants left in the bottom of the can, I then stumble to the other side of the porch to release my guts into the bushes on over the railing. That feels better.

As I lean over the edge, trying to wipe away the long lines of bitter drool sticking to my lips, the base from inside vibrates along the railing.

I think I’ve managed to spit out the remains of the beer and acidic flavored food chucks hiding in the crevices of my mouth. Standing straight, another big breath of fresh air helps me fight the swirlies that hit me. One more deep breath and I’m feeling much better. All I needed was to get the cheap alcohol out of my gut.

The empty can is discarded into the bushes to join the vomit that someone other than me is going to have to deal with. The thought of checking my car for a cigarette briefly passes through my mind; however, the more intriguing thought involves the two girls inside and the possibilities they present.