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From the Case Files of Sam Shade, Private DetectiveBy Michael Sharek |
|
It's never a good feeling to wake up on the floor. It's an even worse feeling when you can't figure out where you are or how you got there.My cranium felt like the Red Wings were holding a pucks-optional practice inside of it. My mouth was so dry I think my last meal was probably kitty litter with a tabasco sauce chaser. Usually I can tell how much sleep I've had based on how badly I'm aching when I wake up. This morning my body was telling me I had probably slept for a grand total of 17 minutes or less. I was lying on a carpet, I knew that much. I sent a message to my arms and asked them to move, but they replied by e-mail that they were out of the office. I managed to turn my head 10 degrees to the left. I could see only faint details of the room in the gray morning light streaming in through the window. My nose woke up and reported that the room smelt like Frank's Petting Zoo had taken up residence in the closet. My hand finally moved and discovered that my shirt was covered in what appeared to be dried snot and mucous. It must have been one hell of a night. I tried to put together the pieces of the last 12 hours but my mind refused to cooperate. |
Images of the night
before flashed through my head - there was a woman, somebody was crying, I
was sitting in some kind of chair - but they refused to coalesce into any
sort of coherent timeline.
I convinced my body to get itself into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. I could feel bruises and scratches on my chest and stomach. Somebody had worked me over, someone who was tiny and strong. But who? I was pretty sure I hadn't started the night in this room. But why had I come in here? And why did I choose to sleep on the floor when, as I could see from my sitting position, there was a perfectly good bed right next to me? Soft padding footsteps warned me that someone was approaching. I raised myself into a half crouching position. She stood at the door, a young broad with dark hair and cute dimples. "What do you want?" I managed to croak out. "Daddy, can I watch Dora?" she asked. "Sure thing, sweetheart. Just let Daddy sleep on the couch next to you." Goddamn it. When are my kids going to start sleeping through the night? |
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