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Sunday, June 08, 2003 @ 7:58 PM
"That was great. Now let's never do it again."
When I woke up Saturday afternoon, all I could remember was being attacked by a ferret named Marley.
Eventually, the rest of the evening came back to me in bits and pieces. Not in anything resembling sequential order. A brief and very censored account:
Drinking jungle juice, orange vodka, rum, hard lemonade, and Bicardi silver. Smoking a pipe with Stephanie and a guy named Hola. The first, second, and third cigarrettes of my life (and probably the last). Going outside and screaming, and throwing a Bicardi bottle, just to hear the glass break. Faith telling me that she considered me a friend, then telling me not to be too "complemated" because she didn't have many friends. Steve kicking Josh in the nuts. (He was drunk, he thought it would help.) Cutting my toe open in three places when I rammed it into a cement parking block. David Foster trying to convince Josh not to leave. People hooking up. Summer passing out in her car, locking herself in so we couldn't check on her. Everyone being unsure of whether or not she was breathing. Seeing a pint-size friend of mine (who I had always considered innocent) do shots. Repeatedly offering Megan the Red popsicles. One of my friends from high school throwing up in the bathroom for hours, crying and screaming and thinking she was going to die. Moaning for her boyfriend. Someone deciding to call the paramedics, Dan sending everyone to Stephanie's friend Andrew's apartment to hide out until the coast was clear.
Which is where I was attacked by a ferret.
Or, you know, approached by a ferret... I was out of it enough that I couldn't tell the difference.
The next morning, I played the voice message Dan had left for me. "Kellie Powell. It's nearly four. We're not calling the paramedics afterall, it's safe to come home now."
I feel like I've aged three years. I went from seventeen to twenty in a little less than twelve hours.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to church.
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