Saw this beaut of a comic strip that reminded of similar situation in my own life. I’d like to recount it for you now…
Casa de Los sits on a quiet street near the Five Points intersection in Durham Raleigh (thanks Grant). Our neighbors include families, old maids, Korean immigrants, eccentric artists, and recent graduates who keep to themselves for the most part (or maybe we’re the reclusive ones). Last Thursday night though, this all changed.
Grant, Baker, John Los, Dave, and I had upheld the new tradition of Movie Club with a viewing of Unforgiven. After the movie John and Dave said their goodbyes and my roommates retired to their quarters upstairs. I remained downstairs and was dinking around on the computer when I heard a loud crash in the adjoining hall. It sounded like someone had come in the front door. At first I dismissed it as either Grant or Baker getting something from their car. Then I noticed that the footsteps emanated from a high-heeled pedestrian…interesting. I opened the door and glanced around to find a girl standing with her back to me in the music room. She stood perfectly still and said not a peep so I asked if she was alright. As she answered I noticed liquid dripping on the carpet - red liquid. My ears perked up and I immediately checked for other signs of trauma to someone who obviously had been victimized by a mugger. Only then did I realize that it was red wine dripping on the floor, not blood. Red wine plus whatever this lush had eaten for her last meal which combined to form a rolling wave of putrescence that hit me after a few seconds of checking the scene.
I went to the kitchen to get some paper towels and by the time I came back she was gone without another word. She didn’t come back later to apologize much less help clean up the mess that trailed back through the hall onto the porch and down our front steps. I didn’t notice any signs of vomit further up the street…apparently our place just brought it out of her. I looked up to see where she had gotten off to and noticed her a few doors down fumbling with her keys trying to unlock the door. Apparently she had missed it on the first pass and in her drunken stupor had pegged ours as home. And wouldn’t you know it, our light was the only one glowing on the whole street…she was drawn to it like a bug.
Needless to say I had a bit of cleaning up to do. I assume she either forgot about the whole incident or was too embarrassed to come fess up and apologize. That’s ok. I’m sure there will be a trip to Churchills in the near future. I’ll be sure to pound a dozen or so PBRs and leave a little midnight delight for her to deal with.