"They sound like The Beatles" "They sound like The Beatles." she repeats me, "Is this? is this it? I barely drank anything. I only drank quote unquote one cup of Vodka. Quote unqoute one shot of Whiskey. Why is it so effective? I feel like it's going to take forever to get go away." My watch beeps twice. "That means it's four!" she shouts. I yawn. "MmHmm." "You don't know shit about music. You told me so. I have two hours. I have two hours." She's shouting. "Shut the fuck up...I don't mean it." I'm holding my hand out. "You don't mean it." We laugh. "Ohh I'm never going to get drunk again." She's laying down my my couch, holding her hand to her head. "Why?" "I am seeing stuff that I normally keep in my head. I like black music. That music was so boring." She reaches over to her iPod and skips ahead on shuffle., "I love Morrissey. He is soooo, he is so good." She lets her head fall and her body follow to land back on the couch. She ignores my noise of discomfort. I'm so fucking something other than sober. I look up at her and she looks like she's asleep, but then she shouts. "Next! This song is so boring!" I laugh. I really laugh. "This song they performed in the talent show," she whines. "What talent show?" "Some Chinese Chinky Girl." I honestly start laughing. She just keeps talking. "Alcohol seriously seriously tastes like shit. I'm never going to turn into Vanessa. What What are you writing? You're not as drunk as me." "I...I feel it." I yawn again. "I know you feel it. This song hurts my head." She changes it again. Some rap shit turns on, "This is good enough." I roll over onto my back. "Ohh GOD! When is this going to be over? I heard bread makes it better. Should I be eating bread?" She looks concerned. "Sure." "I'm sucking my stomach in." "What does that mean?" "I don't want you to see it. Ohhhh this song hurts my stomach!" She's laying on my couch, using my pillow. I'm laying on my bed, pillowless, so I use my arm. "The movie outside is still playing," She announces, and we're quiet for a second as we both listen to it blasting down the hall. I realize I'm holding my breath. I feel way tired. "This shit makes me sleepy." She says. "You shouldn't fall asleep." "Why not?" "Maybe you'll never wake up." I know I'm talking shit. "Of course I'll wake up. People do this all the time, right?" "Yea." "I just want to make this fade." "What?" "I want to make this feeling fade." "Oh," I'm fucking tired. "Even though the movie is still playing outside." I think I caught her mid-sentence. "Huh? Yea..." She lifts up her right, no left, arm,"I would SO make out with Joe right now." The music goes, "You'll never be impossible like the parakeets and eskimo." At least that's how I hear it. I'm not quite aware. We both sing, "I dont have to speculate, that God himself did make us into something something shapes something something true it may seem like a stretch something something wishing you to death." I wont let her turn the movie off that's in the living room. I find that I need to pee as she claims that that that vodka tastes like shit. I laugh. I'm laughing. She's shouting. "Nothing nothing is funny anymore."