Futures and Frosting by Tara Sivec

semi-circle leather couch.  We raise our
shot glasses in the air until they all clink together in the middle.
    “I’d like to
propose a toast,” Drew says.  “Here’s to you, here’s to me – fuck you, here’s
to me!”
    We all down the
shots as the bus starts up and pulls away from the curb.

6.  Back Door Action
     
    Oh.  My. 
God.  What is that noise?  WHAT IS THAT NOISE??
    It feels like
someone is screaming in my ear with a bullhorn.  I let out a groan, roll over,
and pull the covers up over my head in an effort to stop it from exploding.
    Sweet Jesus
what did I do last night?
    “CLAIRE!  For
fuck’s sake shut your alarm clock off!”
    The yelling from
Liz on the other side of my door makes me cringe.  I pull the covers down just
far enough so I can squint at my alarm clock.
    Sure enough, the
sound that's threatening to make my ears bleed is coming from that little
bastard on our dresser across the room.
    The
repetitive flash of the time, its bright red numbers, and the staccato beeping
on that thing makes me think its judging me. I can hear it— tequila, shots,
vodka, karaoke, you’re an idiot.
    “Carter,” I
mumble.
    Jesus, my voice
sounds like I swallowed a bucket full of gravel.  It feels that way too.
    “Carter,” I
groan again.  “Shut off the alarm clock.”
    With my squinty
eye, I turn my head as slowly as possible and see the spot next to me in bed is
empty.
    “Shit.”
    I stick my arm
out from under my cocoon and grab the first thing my fingers touch on my
nightstand—a vibrator with a leash on it.  It’s a sad, sad day when something
like this doesn’t faze me.  I whip it across the room and watch the giant pink
rubber penis and its diamond-studded leash crash into the alarm clock and
effectively shut it up.
    Small bursts of
memories from last night flash through my addled brain and make me wish I can
have a lobotomy.
    Did I sing
“Like a Virgin” at a winery?  And why am I not wearing any underwear?
    With my eyes
squeezed shut so the bright rays of sun shining through the window don’t light
them on fire, I stumble out of bed and throw on a pair of yoga pants that are
crumpled on the floor. I slowly make my way out of the bedroom and into the
living room.
    “Yo, Claire
Bear!  You’re alive!” Drew shouts from his spot on the couch as I peel my eyes
open and gave him the finger for being so cheerful and not hung-over.
    How is that
possible? He drank way more than me.  I think.  And why is he in our living
room?  I’m going to start charging this asshole rent.
    I stare at the
annoying smile on Drew’s face and another memory from last night assaults me as
I walk up to the kitchen table and pull out a chair.
    “Why do I
remember you peeing somewhere in this house?” I ask with my gravelly voice that
I hope is just from yelling and singing and not from puking somewhere I can’t
recall.
    “Did you pee on
this chair?” I ask angrily as my ass hovers above the seat cushion.
    “Yes, he peed in
that chair,” Liz answers as she emerges from the laundry room off of the
kitchen.
    “Fuck, it’s like
we have a puppy,” I mutter as I move to take a seat at one of the bar stools by
the island instead.
    “I didn’t pee that bad on it,” Drew complains as he walks into the kitchen and makes a show of
looking really hard at the chair in question.
    “There is no
GOOD level of pee on a chair, Drew!” I yell as I take the glass of water and
aspirin Liz had set down on the counter in front of me. I throw the pills in my
mouth and chug the entire glass of water.
    I hear the faint
sound of music coming from somewhere and realize my purse is singing the theme
song from “Golden Girls”.  Liz and Drew start cracking up behind me as I reach
to the end of the island and grab my purse, realizing by their snickers that
one of them must have changed my ring tone.
    I dig through my
purse trying to find the damn phone before that fucking song is stuck in my
head all