My first story post. This is one I'm working on. See if you like it, and want more. I'm sure I can squeeze some more out, with the right reactions.
Enough drunken babel. I give you "Waking in Iowa"
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I awake to the sound of someone beating on my window and calling my name. The car is rocking, so he must be hitting pretty hard. Through the haze in my head, I see that it was my uncle, Bobby.
That means I was in Iowa. How in the hell was I in Iowa? Obviously, I drove. But... from where? When? Where else was I?
Bobby's still at the window, and looking pretty concerned. Looks like he wants some answers, and frankly, so do I.
My smokes are sitting in the console, so I grab them as I fight the door open. Its locked, so I do apparently have some common sense. When my boots touch the gravel, I feel a cry of despair, as my entire body revolts against me. Pain, unimaginable. What the fuck have I been doing lately? Bobby's still got that concerned look on his face as I lean on the fender and light up. A deep drag, an exhale then a very feeble "Hey Bobby, how’s it going?"
"Hey man," he replies, "You don't look so hot."
My face feels like I haven't shaved in a month, my hair's gone feral, haven't had a good cut in a while.
"Man, I feel ten times worse than I look."
His eyebrow looks like its hiding under his bangs. I'm going to chalk that up as "quizzical."
The next drag kills the cigarette, so off into the street it goes.
"Bobby, can we take this inside? Its freezing and you have a coffee pot."
