I lifted my head groggily from the wooden table, my saliva forming a tight seal between cheek and wood, which made an unpleasant sucking noise as it was forcibly parted.
I looked around. Sunlight was beaming into what appeared to be a homely little kitchen. And also directly into my eyes. “Jesus..”, I scrabbled on the table and my hand closed over something that felt like sunglasses. I put them on and the world fell into blessed shade. My head felt like Donald Trump had fired their entire stack of nukes in a fit of outgoing pique, timed to land perfectly when I opened my eyes..
As my eyes gradually came into focus, I noticed an empty bottle on the table. “Stauning whiskey? You bastard..” What was I even THINKING, drinking that? I raised his hand to rub my bald head, an automatic reaction that was barely noticed. What wasn’t barely noticed was the fact that 1) my hand was covered in gauze, the rough feel of the cotton scraping and abrasive against my wild ha..2) I had hair. What the actual hell??
I leapt up in panic, wondering what happened to me. My legs then buckled and I fell to the floor as the second wave of the Orange F*ck’s hangover missiles struck home and detonated. “F**king why?!?!” I wondered aloud, sobbing..
I pushed myself up onto all fours, panting. Both hands were covered in gauze. What had happened? Had I become a drunken burns victim? WHAT? Ignoring the pain as I rose, I unsteadily got to my feet. Bad move. A stomach contents worth of whiskey made an exit onto the stone-tiled floor. “F**k” I spat. Urgh, and now it was all over the bandages covering my fac….My face? I bolted for the toilet. Only to realise, I had no idea where the toilet was. Tears came to my eyes. I don’t know if it was the situation or the stench of vomit on the bandages that was causing it.
Suddenly, I felt a vibration on my leg and strains of ‘Himno Nacional Mexicano’ filled his ears. The Mexican national anthem? Who? I fumbled the phone out of his pocket, but couldn’t answer the call, the gauze preventing the touchscreen from activating. The unknown number kept ringing and ringing. In frustration, I yelled “I just want to answer the f*cking phone, Jesu Christo”. With that, the phone answered in it’s reassuring robotic voice “Answering Call. Speaker.”
“Hola pendejo…..” A gruff Latino voice thundered out of the phone. What was that voice? I knew that voice. I tried to dredge up a memory from the shards of glass that made up my brain currently..
“You think you could run from us?. Huge mistake. You owe me, mano. Your bathroom is on the right. Meet me tomorrow. The address is on the kitchen notepad”
With that, the phone went dead.
I opened the bathroom door. As the neon light flared and caused him to blink, I saw a pair of long-bladed scissors, some painkillers and a glass of water next to the wash basin. F*ck man, I’ve been set up. I set to work, cutting the gauze on my hands, and then the stinking bandages on my face before throwing the whole mess in the bin. Before I looked in the mirror, however, I dumped the painkillers into the glass and drank deeply. Codeine, I mused, that’ll help. My eyes travelled up to the mirror.
I screamed. WHO THE F**K WAS THAT STARING AT HIM??
And as if that was the sign my brain needed, my memory began to flood back…