Max Flynn (
deplusenplus) wrote2011-12-29 06:40 pm
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Entry tags:
charloft, 100 words -tire
“My head hurts.” Your voice is muffled into the pillows as you lay spreadeagled face first in the bed. Your everything hurts. Your muscles where you didn’t know you have muscles hurt.
“Get up Flynn.” She has no mercy. None. Zip. Zilch.
“You got me drunk and took advantage of me,” you groan. And your groaning hurts. You have this vague recollection of dancing the samba with someone else’s wife. You met the couple at the bar, they were celebrating their 50th anniversary. That makes the wife, what? Early 70s?
“Get your clothes on man, we’re going ATVing.” No mercy.