Everything Went Black

When he finally manages to roll over, the night sky is a welcome focus for his brain which is spinning tight and fast only seconds away from the plug hole. Sucking huge lungfuls of cold sobering air; shit, were the stars real or his own? No matter, the light show didn’t last long before everything went black again.

Perfect; there's a rock-n-roll cliche for every occasion. Rock stars and small-town teenagers passed out drunk, fucking vomit everywhere, their survival now in the hands of fate, the stars.

Tried For Treason is the greatest band alive. Wedged like sardines into the flat's lounge they had all screamed and hollered themselves hoarse, the crowd surging and falling on a tide of joyous release. The band, poor buggers, were forced further back against the speakers to escape the beer showers and defend precious equipment.

Awesome.

With a groan he dragged a dead arm from beneath his body and dropped it over his eyes where it tingled and danced to the beat of his heart, the ringing in his ears. Despite the fact that he was now lying in a ditch, the decision to leg it home was the smartest move considering the shit he would have being in if he’d crashed the car or something. Tomorrows inconvenience was better than a fatality in any ones book so he was sure Mum would be okay with her car staying put.

He just hoped none of his mates gave it a kicking or anything like they did with Bruce’s old Mitsi. Drunken bastards. He sent a gob of spit sailing upwards to try and lose the acid taste in his mouth. His nostrils were burning hot and full of puke, but he felt a shit load better after the heave. God knows why he’d decided to try and bury it all – and in the rose garden of all places – but he hoped that daylight wouldn’t reveal too much damage. Fuck, whose garden was it? He sifted slowly back through the night’s events, the trail of beer cans and bullshitting at various houses, the skate park, and then back into the suburbs for the gig. It was at Rebecca’s sister's flat, sweet; she’d see the humour in it all and would be giving him plenty of shit at school on Monday.

Awesome.

He could remember Todd giving him a few shotties and then stumbling around the bathroom for a bit – fuck knows why – no wait, the tooth brush sword fight, fuck yeah that’s right; and then plunging blind out the front door and the welcoming cool night air.

The ditch was dry thankfully so his clothes shouldn't be too messed up, nothing a good wash wouldn't sort. The only hassle was if he ran into the olds; they weren’t prone to sympathy in situations like this. No, it would tut tutting disappointment from a severely frowning Mum backed up with the quietly smouldering anger from the old man for being so ‘bloody stupid’. Permanent state really; getting out of bed was the first stupid act of each day. Nah it must be well after midnight so they should all be asleep.

He tried to raise his head to look in the general direction of home. Probably only 600, maybe 800 metres and he’d be there. He remembered to breath, exhaled deeply from the effort of it all and settled himself back down into the ditch. Give it a bit more time eh.

Two weekends back at Richard's party he'd carked it on the front lawn between the letterbox and the gate to his sleepout. Star-fished unconscious only metres from the olds bedroom window the milk boy had given him a gentle jab and he made the final stage on his hands and knees. Real close that one.

Yeah it was worth waiting to avoid a repeat and anyway, he wasn’t sure his body could actually physically get him home at the mo’, so he might as well relax and straighten up.

The noise had come from behind him, past his head somewhere and was definitely in the ditch with him. For a while he’d ignored it, blaming it on an imaginary wind, but no it was real all right. With this realisation he froze, breathing in short silent puffs. There it was again, a rustle of leaves, movement towards him. He tried to sit up but nothing happened. Christ shit fuck it; he was too pissed to defend himself should something dodgy go off. Tilting his head back he attempted to look behind him but only managed to send his eyeballs tumbling back over into his skull. Fighting nausea his fingers dug into the soft earth and he put everything into getting his shit together.

It took a supreme effort, but by tensing all his muscles and throwing his arms to one side he managed to roll himself over. The hedgehog froze. Oh shit; that spark of clarity quickly drained once more from him – part relief, part swirling nausea - and letting his face rest on the earth closed his eyes once more.

The soft thud of distant windmills woke him. The frost must be settling over the orchards if they’d started up, so it was probably getting on for three or four. Damn, only a matter of hours until Mum would be yelling for him to get up for church. He shivered, time to roll on home and snuggle down in his stinky bed. He rose like the dead and sat blinking up at the murky streetlights, the road beckoning homeward, all shiny and wet. A clammy stickiness between his legs came as no surprise; damn, he’d pissed his pants again; ah well. Making use of the wide road he let his stagger carry him from one side to the other. The Scully’s fence was fast approaching and that afforded him with some urgently needed support for the last crucial section. His shoulder bumped slowly along the corrugated iron before he grasped the number five letterbox. Home sweet home.

It was probably his younger sister who had put out the milk bottles the evening before, only because they hadn’t quite made it to the box, which was her style through and through. The clatter as he kicked them in the dark was like a bomb in the quiet cul-de-sac; the Smith’s dog down the end immediately began to yap away and it was only a few seconds later that the window of his parents bedroom was shoved open.

Dishevelled hair, white singlet, and eyes squinting tight without their glasses.

“Ahh, hi Dad,” he slurred softly. His father drifted gently in and out of focus. “Sorry to wake you, umm just getting in.”

“So where the hell is the car then eh? Christ boy, get into the kitchen before your mother wakes up.”

He looked down at himself, the dirt, puke and the gummed on leaves. The sharp stink of urine almost masking the alcohol and vomit. With a deep breath he stood at the back door as his Dad unlocked it.

You sad motherfucker; awesome night eh.