"Yooo, that party was stoked!" I shouted.
Goldie and Elodie were next to me—walking like spineless bitches. Damn, we were drunk. I mean, elbows-on-the-ground kinda drunk. Legs-for-decoration drunk. Wobbly like we just got nerfed.
Yo, it's me.. 002. I'm back again.
Sorry, 003's been narrating for a while now. The greedy bitch took over like she pays rent. Anywho, I'm back n***as.
"YOOOOO it's Mr Han!!!" I screamed like I just saw my long-lost dad and he owed me money. One can never be too wasted for some sush. Come on, let's eat!
I sprinted like a rat in a snack aisle. "Brooo, do you know Mr Han has different sushi flavors?? Like he's magic or something. Every piece hits different. Nigga got mood-based sushi."
Goldie just stared at me, laughing like a dumbass. Elodie was trying to eat a straw. Not drink. Eat.
I banged the counter like a crackhead.
"Yo, Mr H!!! You gon have to put this one on my tab! I need ten servings. Ten. Someone, quick—gimme sush…" I sounded like a junkie with withdrawal symptoms. Twitching. Desperate. Pure fish-lust.
Mr Han just nodded, like he'd seen worse. Bro didn't even flinch. Man's a legend. We ate like animals. Sashimi slapping our faces. Soy sauce flying. I might've tried to kiss a wasabi blob. Can't confirm.
Fast forward.... stumbled home. Bodies weak, spirits strong, breath? Tragic.
We crashed through the door, clothes halfway falling off, Goldie tripped on Elodie's sandal somehow even though it wasn't even near her. I flopped onto the bed like a sack of trauma
And there he was. A dude. On our bed. Like… lying there. Comfortable. Cozy. Also—wasted. Did we care?
Nah.
We were too drunk to give a single fuck. Passed out. No thoughts. No questions. Just crusty eyelids and sushi dreams.
Next day... Same. Party. Sush. Home. Dude still there. No one said anything.
I assumed he was someone else's problem. Goldie assumed the same. Elodie thought he was a hat.
Day three, Still there.
At this point, he's like… furniture. Breathing furniture. But furniture. Then day seven rolled up. I was halfway through laughing at Goldie trying to butter a paper towel when something clicked.
"Wait a minute… who the hell is this guy??" I said.
He looked up, eyes bloodshot, brain clearly buffering.
"Yeah… who is this guy?" he said, pointing at no one. Possibly at himself. Possibly at god.
"I'm talking about you," I said, my whole face squinting.
He blinked.
"Yeah, she's talking about you," he said, now nodding like he solved world peace.
"Aight cool, whatever…" I mumbled, and passed out again.