My eyes open. It’s daylight, barely. I yawn as I blink my eyes with last night’s mascara bunching my lashes that were once flawless, just hours before. “Oh, no,” I whisper to myself as I look to my left and see Mario, naked with only his red hat on. I look to my right and then “OH, NO!” A green hat and gloves show Luigi to my right! All I wanted to do was sink below through the other side of the bed and collect coins on a cloud somewhere. “How did this happen?” I think to myself. Then, I vampire my way out of the bed so as to not disrupt the “brothers” from their slumber. There will be no level 2 in this nightmare of a game. But, I’m out the door and the one night encounter is a thing of the past.
A walk of shame is not the most fun, especially when you live in a big city. That train ride home as you clutch your sparkly handbag with last night’s faded lipstick can be brutal, There is a general hope that maybe the train could crash just so you don’t have to deal with the next 27 minutes of your life. But, alas, you walk up your stoop, unlock that door, and let go of the one night encounter that was haunting you all the way here. The girl in apartment 2 is right behind you, on her own W.O.S., and a little relief washes over you that you’re not alone. It is now a last-night problem, a mere dream. Now, you can soak in the tub with your shower beer and forget the damages of the night’s events while nursing your soon-to-be hangover.
Ah, the good ole’ internet never fails to serve as a more than gentle reminder of the previous night’s shenanigans. After that long hot bath you thought would rinse you free, your phone turns on after being dead for several hours. As you plugged it in, you knew there would be messages, but not like this. You stand prepared with your cozy robe and a warm cup of coffee for the chaos to ensue. And so it begins. 34 texts, 47 missed calls, 12 DM’s and… 1 tagged post. Here we go. You scramble to untag, block the poster, and text all your friends to say “This never happened guys!” No one needs to see you sandwiched between the Mario Brothers like an Italian beef smothered in giardiniera. A sort of deja vu begins, remembering last year’s party and the guy with the water sports fetish.
Frantic. You pace around the apartment wondering what else is out there. Also, who else knows what took place last night? Turn on the TV, Judge Judy is on, too intense-next! Ah, It’s Always Sunny, that’ll do for my current mood. Then the door unlocks as a tall handsome man walks through, rolling his suitcase in. “Hey baby, how was your Halloween?” He says, excited to see me. “Oh, kind of boring, I spent the whole time thinking about how much I missed my hubby!” Followed by a minty-fresh-never-did-a-dirty-thing kiss. The end.
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