2 liters of stout beer
4 shots of irish cream
4 shots of irish whiskey
Drink quickly because the cream will curdle
Alcohol fueled writing. No common sense.
With one slow movement you snatch up the remote and turn on the TV. Zapping through channels randomly, you realize that tonights program will consist of old shows and reruns. Not really exciting.
A click from the front door marks the arrival of your hyena flatmate. Her shift finished early it seems. Usually she’d be gone for another hour at least. She doesn’t say a word, just grunts and plops down next to you, eyes closed and head back against the couch.
More hollering from the front room. I’m painfully aware that the inebriated flock of girls flopping over my couch and recliners will be able to hear almost everything.
“Should have installed proper doors instead of curtains maybe.”
The kitsune was having a hard time stifling her giggles as she hooks her thumbs in her thong and twirls around, wiggling her perky bum at me. She bends over and removes the offending piece of cloth.