*knock* *knock* *knock*

??? What’s that? Huh? Mmmph? Bears! Ohhh.. run! Mmmphauummahh…

*knock* *knock* *knock* *knock* *knock* *knock*

Oh shit, yes I’m awake. OK, there’s someone at the door. I think it sounds like someones. The bear that was chasing me up the trees in Hayward near Dr. Singleton’s old office is gone. Dream over, I’m in the real world again, and there’s something at the door.

My heart is pounding, I’m breathing heavy. It was a big bear. I jump out of bed.

“JUST A MINUTE!”

The pounding continues. What the fuck? Only the All-Stars bang on the door this loudly and consistently. I glance at the clock–7:30pm. Dammit, I was only going to take a catnap. I ended up sleeping for 10 hours.

I throw on some clothes at the foot of my bed. I haven’t left the house in a couple days. I haven’t shaved in a week. My face is peeling. My shoulders are still seeping and blistered. I stink. My clothes stink. My shoulders stink. I’m out of it, still half-asleep and half-awake. I look terrible. I open the door.

Hey, it’s my sisters!

“Hi guys!”

“You look terrible.”

Yeah, no shit. We chatted for a bit. I don’t remember what we talked about. I just know that they were up here for farmer’s market.

“Lemme get cleaned up and I’ll meet you guys downtown in a bit.”

In the shower I scrub my shoulders with my aloe vera soap and my scrunchie shower thingie. It hurts like hell, and feels great at the same time. My sunburned shoulders have progressed to the itching stage, and yet the slightest touch stings like the devil. Five days later and they are still red, red, radioactive red. Maybe one day I’ll stop being a drunk jackass and put on sunscreen if I’m going to be in the fucking sun?

I throw on some clothes and head out the door. I turn on my cell phone and check the messages for the day while I was comatose.

“This is the Union Pacific Railroad recruiting system. You have been selected for a the next hiring session at Roseville, California on June 23…”

YES! Oh man, I’ve been waiting for this call! I turn right around, go back up the stairs, and get on the Internet. I go to the UP website, hit “accept”, and instantly feel 100% better.

I check the next message.

“Hey you fucking jackass, you bled all over my floor. Call me back.”

What the hell? I call Dave to ask what the hell he’s talking about.

“What’s up dude?” I asked Dave.

“Jackass, check your feet.”

Right foot, OK. Left foot… hey, I got an owie.

“Looks like I cut my foot.” I told him.

“Yeah jackass, you bled all over my floor. We didn’t do a very good job of cleaning it up either. You bled all over one of my throw-rugs. We just flipped it over. Kaulana found it–she’s not pleased.”

“Did you blame everything on me?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Does she still hate me?”

“Of course.”

Old news. All my friend’s wives hate me. Everything is my fault, you see. I force my friends to drink. It’s true. None of my friends want to drink, but when I come around I force the booze down their throats. Then I hold a gun to their heads and make them do dumb things. We’re not really dumb, though. Scott says, “We’re smart guys that do dumb things!” I agree. That sounds great!

Let’s see who else called… 3 messages from the All-Stars wanting to go out boozing, 2 messages from Becky and Deborah calling about coming to Chico for farmer’s market, and 1 from my dad.

Blah, I don’t feel like calling anyone. I’m downtown and looking for my family. I spot them at city square on the grass, eating Smokin’ Mo’s BBQ. Mmmm mmmm mmmm!

We hang out for a bit and chat. I’m coherent now, and possible a bit more interesting to talk to. Or maybe people like me better when I’m drunk? I just don’t know any more. After farmer’s market they packed up and left.

I call the All-Stars–Kellie’s already downtown boozing with Steve and Sierra. My partner in crime, Janden, is in Visalia for the weekend, so I break down and cry.

I’m ready to rock and roll. I’m rested, I’m fed, and I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in 5 days. If Janden was there it would have been another messy night. But alas, he was not. Kellie and crew have been drinking since noon, and weren’t in the mood at 10pm to get sloppy.

First stop, U-bar. Double shot of Cappy to start the night off all proper-like and a pint of Steelhead. One more for the road. We hit up a few more bars and end up at the Bear. We sit outside and chat and smoke, and drink $3 pitchers of beer. When they booted us out of there, we headed back to Kellie’s place.

I stay up until 4am and then start the long walk home, under a thick canopy of stars, and kept company by the lonesome whistle of the train south of town.

And now it’s 8am. I’ve been up for 12 hours now, I’m still wide awake. I’ll probably be up until around noon again. Or do I stay up the rest of the day in another lame attempt to get back on schedule?