Debby the Drunkard

Debby was drunk every weekend.
With her, it was all or nothing, all the time. When she exercised, which was infrequently, she ran for hours at a time. When she worked, which was as little as possible, she worked with the effort of two employees. And when Debby partied, it was purposeful. Debby enjoyed her beer and she enjoyed her Bundy- her friends said she was a good time.
Every Friday night Debby experienced “time travel.” Time travel happened deep inside a drunken stupor where even her memory deserted her. Sometimes Debby considered that her memory was being kind, selectively skipping out when things occurred that she may not wish to remember. Sometimes, on Saturday mornings, Debby woke up with stamps on her wrist that she didn’t remember being stamped with and Debby said “Thank you, memory, for allowing me to forget.” And then she would call her friends and say, “Sooo… what happened last night? I time travelled.” And they would tell her the main facts about the good times that she forgot. If there was something Debby didn’t enjoy the sounds of, she would simply shrug, sigh and read her tattoo. It was on the inside of her left wrist, and it read, in beautiful Comic Sans script: “If I don’t remember, it didn’t happen.”

On one particular Friday night something went awry in an unusual way. Debby went out a little bit later than expected because she had to wait for a Triple Berry Cheesecake to cool on her Café World Facebook application. Debby finally met up with her girlfriends at Buckeye, a honkytonk karaoke bar where they all knew the bartender. The bartender was a little old and not very attractive but he was incredibly good at mixing Bundy with Coke and his ladies-only happy hour lasted all night long. Tonight, because she was playing catch-ups, Debby ordered her favourite green beverage, the Mind Eraser.

When she “woke up” from her alcohol-induced blackout, or, arrived at the time travel destination as it were, Debby found herself standing, dressed in bra and trackpants, in the toilet inside of her apartment.
Now, Debby’s toilet was in a room connected to her bathroom. On the toilet door all week there had been stuck a hot pink sticky note which read “DO NOT CLOSE!” Because the door was broken.
It seemed that now the door was closed and Debby was on the inside of it. “Hmm.” She thought, trying the handle which turned… and turned and turned, not appearing to affect the doors function in the slightest.
“No matter,” Debby said to herself, still quite drunk and cheery. “I’ll just knock for Sally to come and save me.” Sally was Debby’s housemate and her bedroom was directly beside the bathroom.
“Tap tap tap.” Went Debby’s finger tips on the hollow wooden door. “Tap tap” again. No answer. Not a peep. So, “bang bang bang!” went her fist on the door. “Bang bang” again. No answer. Not a peep.
Becoming just a little frustrated now and searching inside for her inner-Macguyver, Debby looked to the window which was covered in flyscreen and which opened no wider than a ruler length. Well, feeling her inner Macguyver shy away just a little bit, Debby opened the window and peered down in the darkness to the rose bushes which grew from the ground two storeys below. She closed the window with a shudder.
“Well, I wonder what to do now…” Debby pottered around in the 45cm by 45cm space between wall, door, toilet, and toilet cupboard wondering, quite actively, what to do. During her wondering, and her wandering, Debby’s elbow hit the door handle of the cupboard. Curious, she turned that handle and found the hot water cylinder behind the cupboard door. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” She mused, good naturedly. “That’s why the hot water runs out so quickly- that little guy is teeny tiny!” And just above the small water cylinder, on a cheap wooden shelf, Debby found a spare shower curtain. “Perfect.” She decided. “That should do nicely.” And she wrapped it around herself and settled in to sleep on the toilet floor until she could be found. As she nodded off, Debby continued banging on the toilet door steadily, loudly: “Bang, bang bang!” But she did not cry out lest she wake everybody up. She found this logic to be questionable later.
Who knows how long later Debby woke to the sounds of the morning birds singing and the first hint of light in the sky. “That does it.” She huffed. “That. Does it. I am not going to be locked in the toilet while the sun comes up.” And she slid open that tiny little toilet window and she punched through the fly screen. She climbed on top of the porcelain throne and flung one leg out into the cool, morning air. Debby stood precariously on top of the air conditioning unit outside, trying not to look down. She noticed that her left foot was perched directly on top of a “no standing” sign on the air conditioning unit. She guessed that was not too good so she really dug her fingernails into the red brick wall and looked around for a good next place to step.
She couldn’t climb down, it was too far and she’d only find herself locked out of a greater area. Then she saw it, just an extended stride away was the windowsill of the bathroom. So she strode. And when she got there, clinging to the red brick and willing away any violent gusts of wind that might push her off, she found she could slide the window open… ten centimeters- There was a security stick wedged inside the window and she couldn’t possibly dislodge it. “God damn security!” She cursed. And so she straddled the partially-opened window, pushing one leg through until she was sitting uncomfortably between inside and outside, and she carefully, painfully, oozed herself the rest of the way in.
Panting, Debby tumbled over the sink and inside her bathroom. She smiled to herself and adjusted her bra strap, proud of her almost gymnast-like prowess.
And then the door next to the bathroom opened and Sally walked out of her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. “Hey, Deb,” She yawned. “What are you doing up?”
Debby groaned and stumbled into her bedroom, every limb craving her very comfortable and cozy doona.
But before she could dive beneath its warmth Debby looked down and saw what must have driven her to the bathroom in the first place.
Debby’s bed was covered in yellow throw-up and speckled with orange and green bits.
Debby the Drunkard was not a happy traveller.

Debby the Drunkard