Mrs. DeadLove

      Minutes from the sunrise, on another cloudy day. Can smell the precipitation, that has already fallen. My bloodshot eyes, are burning from the night before. I can’t seem to balance myself, as I fumble through my pockets, looking for my lighter.  Nothing, where the fuck, is that cheap bastard. I bought it at the gas station, last night, along with the couple packs of cigarettes.

      Retreating back into the, hotel room. Searching all the tables, and surfaces. I don’t see them anywhere. I walk towards the bathroom, and see them on the side, of the bathtub. How the hell, did they wind up in here. I wasn’t that drunk, was I?

      At this point, I realize my throbbing head, hasn’t stopped since I got up. Where the fuck am I, I feel like I’m in the, Twilight Zone. About that time, the hotel phone, starts ringing. I locate it, on the end table, beside the bed. Hello, I mumble into the receiver.

      The voice on the other end, I don’t recognize. Turns out, it’s a wake up call. You, know the deal. Only, problem is, this ain’t my room. According to the front desk, the call, was for a, Valerie Quinn.

      Alright, I gotta take inventory here. I’m at a, Ramada Inn, according to the literature on the table. I’m me, Damian, that is. I light a cigarette, and take a drag.

      The fogginess is unreal, I gotta get a grip. I notice a bottle of, Jack, on top of the television. I hop up, and grab the bottle. Take a big snort, and it burns all the way down, to the pit of my stomach. There is a business card, beside the bottle. The writing looks blurry, because my eyes can’t focus. I take another snort, and suddenly, I can read it.

      Wildcard Studio’s, is what it says. That’s right, we were recording the demo, we’ve been working on. We must have partied afterwards. This mystery is slowly unraveling. Only thing is, how did I, wind up in a strange woman’s room. Who’s name, doesn’t ring a bell.

      The bigger question, I should be asking is, where is this woman at? I’m the only one here, the bed is empty, the bathroom is vacant as well. I spot a cooler, in the floor. I open it up to find, 5 or 6, beers. Still cold, don’t mind if I do. Hair of the dog, people. Nazareth, is rifting in my ear.

      As I pop the top off a cold one, I guzzle it down, consuming it in a couple of gulps. I grab another beer, and as I’m opening it, I sit back down on the bed. I slide my hand, under the pillow, as I reach for the cigarettes, on the table. I’m surprised, to feel, lacy material, with my gliding fingertips. I pull my hand out quickly, and dancing in wind, of the ceiling fan’s breeze, is a black thong. Definitely, women’s underwear, upon further investigation.

      Things just got interesting. Not knowing if that’s good or bad. About that time, I hear a cough. Coming from the other side of the bed, where there happens, to be space in the floor, along the wall. I hesitate, then calmly say, Valerie.

      A ladies hand, reaches the top of the bed. As she pulled herself up from the floor, and starts making her stunning appearance. Long blonde hair, the deepest blue eyes, and a smile, no man could ever forget. While donning a sheet, that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

      Damian, she says laughingly. It’s me from the bar last night, do you remember me? Walking sexy, with that radiant stare, her eyes meeting mine.

      I remembered her immediately of course. I’d forgotten her name. But only because, I thought I dreamed the whole thing. I’ve always had vivid dreams, add alcohol, and they’re really intense. But this was the closest I’ve ever had, to fantasy becoming reality.

      In fact it did become real. Has been for, 18 glorious years now. She is, Mrs. DeadLove. Happy Anniversary, Val!