Hangover day with myself and soda
woke up and my other-half was hung over. She asked me to walk to the store and get her some ginger ale. I reminded her that, since we were the same person, if I went to the store she would have to come too.
She said, "that's fine."
So, foolishly, I believed her and we set out for ginger ale and corn dogs. Halfway to the AM/PM, she barfs. It comes out like creamed corn with bits of pre-chewed bubblegum floating about in the mix. The smell hits me and I remember I too just puked. I need that corn dog now more than ever.
At the store, something happens to her memory and she can't remember what she wants.
"Ginger ale," I tell her. She winces at my voice and tell me, "Don't yell!" People around us don't know she is hungover so they assume I am a spouse-abuser. Just to ease their minds, I say, "Hey, calm down! It's not like I ever HIT YOU, right?"
She doesn't realize I am trying to deflate the situation like a powerful balloon that could send me to jail, so she says, "Knock it off, damnit! Can't you see I am hungover? I'm in no fucking mood for your strangeness!"
"Alright, dear," I say, conscious of all the eyes on me, gauging my reaction, expecting me to strike her upside the head with the two-liter of ginger ale in my hands. I then say, "I love you."
"Fuck off," she tells me.
We pay for the stuff and leave the store, but I won't ever leave the minds of those people waiting behind us in line. No doubt they will forever tell the story of the spouse-abuser they saw almost strike his poor, sick wife in the line at the AM/PM.
We lie down on the couch and take it easy for the rest of the day. At one point, she rolls over and farts gently under the blankets. It smells like lil' smokies.
I want to hit her.
