my sugar pill

i fell asleep outside propped up in a lawn chair. i passed out face down mumbling some obscenities. there's lines on my face from where i smushed my cheek down.
there's a couple squirrels on the table lapping up some leftover snacked-on crackers. their little feet go skitter as they hear the screen door pop open.
perplexing mess. me in brown slacks and my over-priced cardigan snoozing on dewy plastic furniture. the last drink i had poured was separating in a glass... probably over-loaded it with ice causing the water to stagnate over night.
pull myself up. yes. yes i always sleep out here in the clothes i wore the night before. nothing to be worried about here.
anthony brought the phone to me. not a word. tight lipped snip and drop of the phone onto the table. it's on. it's for me?
"hallo?"
"hey! it's me! did i forget my book?"
i looked down and spied my man bag. faintly reaching for it i knew this was going to be a struggle.
"So, anyways, did you want to hear about my date?"
Deflated. I'm going to jerk myself off to death. forever. still can't reach the bag. i can't even hear what he's saying. i knocked the bag closer to my fingers. i still couldn't get motivated enough to properly get it. there was talking on the phone. this drink should still be fine. right? for all i know a squirrel has pissed in it. no. it still tastes fine. sip. breathe. reach. i finally grasped at the zipper and fumbled around for a paperback. "fugitve pieces". open it up. it's a gift to coffee shop boy from his boyfriend. this is MY favourite book. this is MY gift to men that i'm trying to impress!! i want to throw up. how hopeless. how hopeless to sleep outside and finish off a watered down version of a cocktail. maybe i didn't sleep that long? maybe this is still a waking dream?
"So Nate... Jon was thinking something silly. that you, now don't take this the wrong way... you don't have a thing for me right?"
Stunned. stunned and yes, yes i'm definately still drunk. an indignant rage flushes my skin. "No, it's not so much a THING as I think you're fantastic."
"Oh... I..."
"I think you're fantastic and that means that i'm not allowed to have you. Right right?"
"Nate..."
"You would make me happy. Real happy. That bouncy little sensation of being in lust and feeling like you want to whip yourself into a streetcar to end it all."
"Oh... oh no!"
"But you don't end it all. No no. " I stood up and strode around. Attempted to. reality: stumbled around the patio furniture.
"You CAN'T end it all because you've accepted that this is your lot in life. you find that onnnnnnne person that you feel like you want to, you know, THROW IT ALL INTO ONE BASKET and admit that you've been a sonofabitch that's unlovable..." Look! there's still a bag of peanuts out here. I tossed a handful back. "Mm. muh... You're unloveable but when you find someone to pin all those morbid hopes and dreams on they don't like you! Isn't that great? I don't feel depressed about something that i can't control. It's like..." mouthful. "Like it's something i'm resigned to! I... I ah... I gotta get sick. I'll leave the book in the mail box... or... something... talk to you later."
End communication. Well that was interesting. i really do need to go throw up. extra points for the ceadar bushes the landlord just planted.