Really Old Bastards: Chapter 6
The hangover pt1
BEFORE YOU BEGIN!!!
You should know that this is a SEQUEL
You can read the first three chapters of book 1 here. If you want to read the rest, then you’ll have to buy the book (available on Amazon, KU, and Audible).
CONTENT WARNING: Sex, gross humour, ageism, ableism, mild racism, pretty much all the same shit from the first book.
Question: is there anything worse than the smell of booze when you’re dying from a hangover? Answer: Yes, yes there fucking is. And that, my friends, is the smell of vomit. It’s not even mine either; that’s the worst part.
And who the fuck vomits down a wall anyway? I fight the urge to gag as I wipe — no, scrape it off the wall, but it’s no good. The little pieces of diced carrot have dried in overnight; now it’s like fucking woodchip wallpaper. When I find the old cunt who did this, they’re getting a fucking pillow over their face.
Why did I stay up drinking after putting Marge to bed? I could have grabbed a couple of hours on the couch in the break room, but no, not me! Not Tracy, who still parties like she’s in her twenties, a time when hangovers were a myth. No, I had to go grab the punch bowl and make some deadly concoction like I’m the witch from Snow White, then sit there drinking the whole thing from a straw while daring Valerie and Henry to kiss again (they did it like another three times).
But boy, is Angie pissed. Don’t get me wrong, I knew she would be. I expected her to yell, shout, scream even. Tell me to clean this shit up, then storm off to her office for some coffee and farts.
But what she did was so much worse.
She walked into the bombsite of a TV room, found me sleeping on the couch, empty punch bowl still in my lap, and Valerie and Henry unconscious on the floor.
“Wake up!”
She didn’t even look angry, just hurt. Close to fucking tears, actually. Then she left without saying another word, but every now and then she puts her head around the door and gives me and Valerie fucking daggers.
So, what, I’m the asshole now, all because I wanted to show the residents a good time? Hell, I just gave them a night they’ll remember for as long as they live. Well, the ones who weren’t blackout drunk, at least.
Maybe I pushed Angie too far. For months, I’ve been laughing at her struggle with having actual work to do. I guess the timing could have been better. Part of me is worried that she’s just waiting for us to finish cleaning up before she fires us.
Valerie looks as rough as I feel — make-up smeared everywhere, hair like a cow just gave birth to her. My brain rattles in my skull as she drops another empty liquor bottle into the trash bag.
“Would it kill you to place them in quietly?”
She picks up another bottle, looks me dead in the eye, and with all her might, smashes it into the fucking bag.
“Fucking quit it, will ya?”
“No, I won’t.” She tries to make an angry face, but it’s more like a pouting two-year-old. “This is all your fault.”
“And I suppose you’re completely blameless? You nearly gave Henry a fucking stroke with that beer funnel.”
“It was your beer funnel, Tracy!”
“Oh, and I suppose it was my tongue you stuck down his throat?”
Valerie goes beetroot, her eyes full of the fear of someone who’s just remembered something horrific they did while drunk. A fear I know all too well. “I… I didn’t mean to do that. But I knew the party was a bad idea. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen!”
“Take a fucking chill pill, why don’t you? We had a little fun, what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal, Tracy, is that I could lose my job because of you and you’re fun!”
Another bottle drops into the trash bag. I’m going to put the next one over her head.
“Well, you’d never even had fun before you started hanging out with me. You’re fucking welcome, by the way.”
“You’re a bad influence! On me, on the residents, on… fricking everyone!”
“Ah, kiss my fucking ham wallet!”
“Morning, ladies!”
Frank stands in the doorway, wearing a bright pink nightdress. He looks like Norman Bates if he’d gotten away with it for sixty years.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Rose, she uh, sent me to collect her teeth.”
Valerie frowns. “Her… teeth?”
My hazy memory catches up a little. “Ah, yeah.”
To Valerie’s horror, I produce Rose’s slimy teeth from my pocket.
“Here you go, Frank. And tell her to rinse them out before putting them back in. I might have dropped them in the punch bowl and then pretended they were a shark.”
Frank takes the teeth in a little napkin. “Thanks, Tracy. Well, I better go. It’s breakfast time, and grandpa’s worked up an appetite.”
“Bye, Frank.”
As Frank leaves, Valerie looks at me for an explanation, but I don’t have the energy to give her one. “Use your imagination, Val.”
Finally, she puts the pieces of the puzzle together, letting out a little gasp as her hand covers her mouth. “Oh, my goodness!”
“Yup. Rose got some moves. Anyway, I need to sit down before I throw up.”
“But we’re not finished cleaning up yet.”
I give her the finger and let myself fall onto the couch. Then I pull out my phone.
ONE NEW MESSAGE:
From Mom.
Do you ever know a message is going to be bad news before you open it? Yeah, me too.
Hi, Honey! Looking forward to seeing you and your new friend Dale later. Dinner’s at 2.30, so be here 2pm SHARP! xx
Fuck.
Author’s Note:
Last time, I said that this chapter would be the hangover plus dinner with Tracy’s mom, but this scene ended up being longer than I expected, so I made it a chapter on its own.
One of the most enjoyable things about writing Tracy is thinking of weird shit for her to say or think. “Kiss my fucking ham wallet” is probably a new one for most of you readers. In fact, I’d be surprised if anyone in history has ever uttered those words together.
Did any of you watch Cobra Kai? Great show for any Karate Kid fans out there, but part of its success is built on this love/hate relationship between Daniel and Johnny. If they’d become friends by the end of season 1, then the show would have been over. Now, I’m not saying Tracy and Valerie are the same, but it’s so much more fun when they’re not getting along!
Next time, Tracy struggles to eat dinner at her mom’s. The hangover continues.