Memoir of a drunk

The night was going surprising well. My friends were impressed with my sister, which made me a little irritated. I mean, Amy always had to one-up me. She got straight As, was fairly popular, and she still manged to fit in good deeds I never had the time to do, like reading at the old folks' home. In essence, she was everything my parents wished I was, and they did a poor job of hiding it. So, naturally, I was a little jealous when she hit it off with my friends. I mean, they were my friends in the first place. I blew it off, but I unconsciously drank a lot more than I usually did. Suddenly I was that one embarassing drunk staggering across the dance floor.

"Bafrooom," I slurred to the guy in front of me. He pointed to my right, but I was too late, and soon the stranger's shoes had turned a sickly shade of orange. I was about to apologize, but he guided me to his car, comforting me all the way. My memory conveniently stops shortly after that point, but the pregnancy test I was now holding in my hand gave me a pretty good idea.


The End

1 comment about this story Feed