Shoebox  

by Madame Estrella

You begin to ask yourself questions when you find yourself at your friend's apartment, at four in the morning, throwing up in a shoebox behind the couch.  One of the first is, of course, why am I throwing up in this shoebox?  Another is, how did I get here?

Some time passes and then someone else wanders up and regretfully informs you that someone just flushed your keys down the toilet.  That's not the worst part.  The toilet is now plugged up.  You shake your head and then feel yourself retching once again.  How much can one shoebox hold?

This is not one of those the bitch dumped me stories.  This isn't even I went to a kegger and had too much on a dare.  No, this is just I wanted to get fucked up because I had a bad day.  I just got way too fucked up.

Lets begin.  Six A.M.  The phone wakes me up.  Of course I roll over and grab for it mindlessly trying to make the ringing stop.  It's my ex-girlfriend.  Now mind you, this is not the reason I'm here, it's just an ingredient.

Connie tells me that her boyfriend is cheating on her and she's pregnant and they just got in a huge fight about it all night until he finally stormed out.  Then she called me.  Yeah, I'm the one she decided she just wanted to be 'friends' with.  I guess a friend is expected to valiantly respond to every one of her panicked calls at six in the morning.

"Oh God, Jim!  What am I going to do?"  I'm not very coherent at this point.  I didn't really hear half of what she said.  I kind of mumbled and made some groaning sounds and then mentioned I was up until three in the morning studying for a test and finishing a speech.  Then she gives me this crap about how can I think of myself.  What?  Why did I pick up the phone?

I listened to her cry for a little while and then I suggested that maybe we go to breakfast and talk about it then.  She tearfully agreed and we settled on Denny's.  So, I get out of bed and threw some clothes on and grabbed the notes I wouldn't be able to read because she would think it's insensitive.  I had to have them with me though.  It's voodoo.

"Hay Jimmy.  Are you done back there?"  Sarah called over the back of the couch.  Apparently I hadn't been making enough noise in some time so they weren't entertained.  I'm a horribly sarcastic person.  That's probably why Connie and I are just friends.  I guess it kept me from knocking her up.

"Jimmy?"

"I'm still here."

"Are you coming out?"

"No."

Nobody answered me, of course.  Who the hell wants to talk to the drunk guy who's been puking behind the couch all night?

I met Connie at Denny's and ordered the Grand Slam, which I got around seven-fifteen.  Connie went on and on about the whole situation and about how it was his entire fault and how she didn't know what to do about it.  I just sat there and nodded.  What else was I supposed to do?  It's not like I'm gonna go 'hey, how about I help you out of this situation'!  After all, she did dump me to go out with this guy in the first place.

I finished my breakfast at around eight o'clock and told Connie I had to go, regretfully.  I told her that I would call her later and maybe set something up to talk again.  Le Chump!  A friend always tells me that I'm a bleeding heart and that I'd do anything for any girl I was ever with.  This may be true to a certain extent, but I am not going to miss an exam for one.

Eight-thirty.  I finally get a parking space and race across campus, reading my notes, to the lecture hall.  It's already packed!  I wrestle through fifteen people to sit in the middle of one of the rows.  You know, that seat that no one takes because it's such a pain in the ass to get to.  Always reserved for those who come in late to humiliate them.

I get the test.  To my surprise it's short answer, essay.  To surprise me once again, it's on another chapter.  God damn it!  I missed one of the chapters in the reading assignments all-together.  Material from that chapter consisted of four out of ten questions on the exam.  So, I struggled through it to get my C at best.

After that test I was sure the rest of the day was going to suck.  I still had to go to work and make my speech and my memory was going fast.  I made it to work.  God, why do you hate me?

I work in the media department on campus.  A lot of people don't truly understand what we do.  Basically, we keep everything that is electronic, other than lights and elevators, working on campus.  Let me say now that I hate the hackers.

At approximately seven in the morning, some wise-ass decided to fuck with the campus computer system.  He made some program, which came through the Internet connection in every computer on campus.  Rebooting the computers turned it on, which was done at seven in the morning every day.  When the computers this morning were rebooted, all the Microsoft programs were erased and the message 'Bill Gates can suck My Dick!' popped up on every monitor on campus.  Guess what that meant.

So, I got started on my first of seven labs.  My mission was to erase the hard drives and re-master the systems.  So, I got as many systems disks as I could and began working.  At around twelve-thirty, my friend Sarah appeared.

"So, Jimmy.  Were you ever thinking of coming to lunch today?"  Yes folks, I was supposed to meet my speech partner for lunch before we got up in front of the firing squad.  I kind of looked up at her and then my neck seemed to snap, dropping my chin into my chest like a wrecking ball.  I felt her hand on my shoulder.

"That's okay, Jimmy.  Just tell me that you practiced some and that you have the graphics disk."  My head stayed down.  I heard Sarah suppress a scream and then begin pacing the room, rapidly.  She stopped in front of me and sighed.

"Give me your keys.  I'll go get the disk from your place and you can go over this until I get back.  Meet me at the classroom."  I handed over my keys and took her copy of the speech and began reading.  I felt like a total asshole.  No, I felt like a completely stupid asshole.

I read the speech and talked to the computers and made my way to the classroom.  One P.M.  Sarah and I sat and waited anxiously.  The professor was drawing groups at random for this project.  I don't know why, maybe he was bored and hating life and taking it out on unsuspecting students.  Guess what happened next.

At least Sarah was only graded on her portion of the presentation.  I would have probably had to open a vein if she wasn't.  The professor felt that fair was fair and that each student should do their best to get the best.  Sarah was on fire, I, do I need to continue.  I actually stopped in the middle of my speech, completely flustered and blank and said 'Oh God, I suck at this'.  Not my finest hour.

Then, she forgot to give me my keys back.  I had to hunt Sarah down for half and hour to get my keys so I could get back to work and other important things.  I made it to my third class that day, for which I hadn't read the selection we were supposed to read for that day.  So, anyone?

I hate that professor.  This woman totally hates men.  I think she's a lesbian, though a certain friend of mine thinks it shouldn't matter to what sexual orientation a professor subscribes.  Professors should only be evaluated by the quality of their instruction.  Who cares!  I hate that fucking dike!  She is such a bitch!

I felt like I was wearing a target.  Maybe I had been all day long.  She sure zeroed in on me.  Always asking me the questions you couldn't answer from reading the summary in the back.  By the end I was ready to scream something very offensive to her.  I didn't.  I'm sure that it reflects in my grade anyway.

I got back to work again.  Sarah found me again.  I looked up and asked her if she was going to beat me up.  Sarah's always been very nice and forgiving.  I wasn't so sure about today.

Instead of bitch-slapping me as I’d expected, she smiled at me.  What a smile.  Then she asked if I was okay.  For the first time I didn’t feel like there was a two-ton weight hovering over my head, ready to crunch me.

So, I tempted fate once again and asked to make up for the speech disaster by going to my buddy’s place for a couple of drinks tonight.  Then she agreed, I didn’t believe it at first and I asked her to repeat herself.

We hit the liquor store on the way to my friend’s place, when I realized that I’d left my wallet at work.  Work was locked and Arnie the pock marked faced Star Trek freak had the only key.  And Sarah offered to pay.  I felt like the biggest loser in the universe.

And now, here I crouch behind the couch, puking in a shoebox.  If Sarah is still speaking to me tomorrow after I repay her for the booze, then she must be my soul mate.