Drunken Princess
inresponse to another charistomma plunny:
'Be strong, be strong' I whisper to my wifi, relatively sure this is a hot spot.
'Is there a reason you're talking to a lampost?' the dry far too loud voice comes from nowhere and it's perfectly acceptable to flail, squeak and fall against said lampost. Not that that's what I do! As I rightly tell the voice 'i didn't squeak' I also pat the lampost and whisper thanks for the save. That's just polite.
'Uh-huh' the voice from the dark doesn't sound convinced, I gear up to argue the point, but er, what was the point again?'
'Shoes?' asks the voice, which makes no bloody sense, what about shoes? Shoes are great, I love shoes, but it's late o'clock and we're in the middle of a dark lonely street, in the dark, what have shoes got to do with anything? I squint in the direction of the voice but it's a vague form. A nice blurry dark form, kinda broad, the sort of figure you could burrow into for a really good snuggle. 'I like snuggles' I declare brightely. For some reason this is greeted with a heavy sigh. The sigh is heavy.
'Shoes?' He repeats. 'shoooooooeees' I sing, finally getting it. It's late o'clock, probably late enough to be early o'clock now, somewhere down the road from the greatest club ever, where i was a big hit I must most modestly acknowledge! The voice must be drunk. The person connected to the voice obviously, voices don't get drunk. Wanting to be helpful I tell the voice this 'Voices don't get drunk'
'No?' I think that was a laugh, I'm not sure what's funny but I laugh along to be polite, because he's drunk, so there doesn't need to be a reason. Besides I'm very polite, always ever so polite, it's a fault. Or maybe a virtue. Virtue is overrated.
'Virtue is overrated' I tell the drunken voice sadly. Drunken person. Person, not voice. Person with a voice. It's a nice voice. 'I like your voice' I tell the voice 'it's lovely' it's kinda familiar, sounds like my flatmate atually, but then I every voice, every thing, reminds me of my flatmate. He's lovely. My flatmate that is. I'm not sure if I tell drunken voice that but he sighs. 'Awww are you tired? you sound tired? you should go home, snuggle up, I bet you have someone to snuggle, snuggles are nice' My flatmate has no interest in snuggling me, if he did I'd climb him like a tree and hold on for dear life. I don't tell the voice that. I don't tell anyone that. Polite to a fault me.
'What happened to your shoes? You're barefoot'
'Oh' I peer down and wiggle my scarlet toes experimentally, cooey little toesies. 'So I am' I agree all serious 'Like Cinderella fleeing the ball at Midnight'
'Kay, it's long past midnight and this is not a fairytale, you're drunk'
'I'm drunk?' I have to think about this, there'd been the show, such a great show, then the bar and everyone was so lovely, I had a cocktail bought me all sparkle with an umbrella, then there was a sour shot, then something sweet sweet to take the taste away, I like sweet things so I had another of those, and, and 'oooooo I think you're right! I'm drunk!' 'Wait, does this mean we're both drunk?'
'I'm not drunk Kay, I'm the one trying to walk you home, the flat, where you live remember?'
'You're no Prince bloody Charming' I feel cheated.
'And you're not Cinderella, just an annoying, very drunk Kay'
We tred, trod? hobble? We hobble a few steps, well I do while my non charming hero guides me, which is nowhere near as romantic as my poor bruised heart desires, gravel paths are not good for stockinged feet, let me tell you.
'Ow, ouch, ow' my protests fall on deaf ears 'this is hell'
'If you find yourself walking through hell...KEEP BLODDY GOING'
I don't think that's quite the quote but the world is lurching about so I don't argue. i'm suddenly staring at a butt. It's a very nice butt, biteable, I wish I wasn't so polite. 'Hi butt' I try. It flexes delishously. I feel a little queasy but put that aside wondering why the world looks so funny and bumpy, I'm smart so figure in no time I'm being carried 'nice butt' I sigh.
Hearing a tired chuckle and 'thanks' from somewhere up high.
'GUH, UCH, BLEURGH'
'Morning' someone sounds amused, that dry sardonic amusement really cool people can pull off, are people still cool? there's probably another word now, I'm old, so old and possibly dying. 'Argggh' thoughts hurt.
'You're alive then?' It takes me a minute to unstick my eyelids and blink in the view of my bedroom. My pillow is strangely warm, and moving'
Oh. Flatmate, hot flatmate. 'Hi?' seems weak, but the memories flooding back burn a path across my skin. The curse of being fair. I've seen him blush once, with the bronze of his skin he just looked more attractive, damn him. I turn into a walking blotchy beetroot. Hello Halloween.
'you ok there' his voice is softer tha I've heard before, and a hand gentle on my head, so good! I lean into it and debate purring, alchol not quite burnt off. He really is great for snuggles. 'I like snuggles' I hear my own dejected voice whisper, in total betrayal of me.
'Yeah you told me' he laughes, he has a lovely laugh, kind. Not kind to my pounding head. I snuggle back into his chest avoiding thought, it makes a nice pillow and he doesn't seem to mind. 'Tell you what Princess, lets get you showered, fed and sober. Then we'll talk about snuggles'
'Be strong, be strong' I whisper to my wifi, relatively sure this is a hot spot.
'Is there a reason you're talking to a lampost?' the dry far too loud voice comes from nowhere and it's perfectly acceptable to flail, squeak and fall against said lampost. Not that that's what I do! As I rightly tell the voice 'i didn't squeak' I also pat the lampost and whisper thanks for the save. That's just polite.
'Uh-huh' the voice from the dark doesn't sound convinced, I gear up to argue the point, but er, what was the point again?'
'Shoes?' asks the voice, which makes no bloody sense, what about shoes? Shoes are great, I love shoes, but it's late o'clock and we're in the middle of a dark lonely street, in the dark, what have shoes got to do with anything? I squint in the direction of the voice but it's a vague form. A nice blurry dark form, kinda broad, the sort of figure you could burrow into for a really good snuggle. 'I like snuggles' I declare brightely. For some reason this is greeted with a heavy sigh. The sigh is heavy.
'Shoes?' He repeats. 'shoooooooeees' I sing, finally getting it. It's late o'clock, probably late enough to be early o'clock now, somewhere down the road from the greatest club ever, where i was a big hit I must most modestly acknowledge! The voice must be drunk. The person connected to the voice obviously, voices don't get drunk. Wanting to be helpful I tell the voice this 'Voices don't get drunk'
'No?' I think that was a laugh, I'm not sure what's funny but I laugh along to be polite, because he's drunk, so there doesn't need to be a reason. Besides I'm very polite, always ever so polite, it's a fault. Or maybe a virtue. Virtue is overrated.
'Virtue is overrated' I tell the drunken voice sadly. Drunken person. Person, not voice. Person with a voice. It's a nice voice. 'I like your voice' I tell the voice 'it's lovely' it's kinda familiar, sounds like my flatmate atually, but then I every voice, every thing, reminds me of my flatmate. He's lovely. My flatmate that is. I'm not sure if I tell drunken voice that but he sighs. 'Awww are you tired? you sound tired? you should go home, snuggle up, I bet you have someone to snuggle, snuggles are nice' My flatmate has no interest in snuggling me, if he did I'd climb him like a tree and hold on for dear life. I don't tell the voice that. I don't tell anyone that. Polite to a fault me.
'What happened to your shoes? You're barefoot'
'Oh' I peer down and wiggle my scarlet toes experimentally, cooey little toesies. 'So I am' I agree all serious 'Like Cinderella fleeing the ball at Midnight'
'Kay, it's long past midnight and this is not a fairytale, you're drunk'
'I'm drunk?' I have to think about this, there'd been the show, such a great show, then the bar and everyone was so lovely, I had a cocktail bought me all sparkle with an umbrella, then there was a sour shot, then something sweet sweet to take the taste away, I like sweet things so I had another of those, and, and 'oooooo I think you're right! I'm drunk!' 'Wait, does this mean we're both drunk?'
'I'm not drunk Kay, I'm the one trying to walk you home, the flat, where you live remember?'
'You're no Prince bloody Charming' I feel cheated.
'And you're not Cinderella, just an annoying, very drunk Kay'
We tred, trod? hobble? We hobble a few steps, well I do while my non charming hero guides me, which is nowhere near as romantic as my poor bruised heart desires, gravel paths are not good for stockinged feet, let me tell you.
'Ow, ouch, ow' my protests fall on deaf ears 'this is hell'
'If you find yourself walking through hell...KEEP BLODDY GOING'
I don't think that's quite the quote but the world is lurching about so I don't argue. i'm suddenly staring at a butt. It's a very nice butt, biteable, I wish I wasn't so polite. 'Hi butt' I try. It flexes delishously. I feel a little queasy but put that aside wondering why the world looks so funny and bumpy, I'm smart so figure in no time I'm being carried 'nice butt' I sigh.
Hearing a tired chuckle and 'thanks' from somewhere up high.
'GUH, UCH, BLEURGH'
'Morning' someone sounds amused, that dry sardonic amusement really cool people can pull off, are people still cool? there's probably another word now, I'm old, so old and possibly dying. 'Argggh' thoughts hurt.
'You're alive then?' It takes me a minute to unstick my eyelids and blink in the view of my bedroom. My pillow is strangely warm, and moving'
Oh. Flatmate, hot flatmate. 'Hi?' seems weak, but the memories flooding back burn a path across my skin. The curse of being fair. I've seen him blush once, with the bronze of his skin he just looked more attractive, damn him. I turn into a walking blotchy beetroot. Hello Halloween.
'you ok there' his voice is softer tha I've heard before, and a hand gentle on my head, so good! I lean into it and debate purring, alchol not quite burnt off. He really is great for snuggles. 'I like snuggles' I hear my own dejected voice whisper, in total betrayal of me.
'Yeah you told me' he laughes, he has a lovely laugh, kind. Not kind to my pounding head. I snuggle back into his chest avoiding thought, it makes a nice pillow and he doesn't seem to mind. 'Tell you what Princess, lets get you showered, fed and sober. Then we'll talk about snuggles'