The night started off well, intense violence and the gurgling cries of monsters filled our minds as red wine filled our chalices. My wine glass was never empty, King made sure of this. I can only assume that my comrade's intentions were different from my own and by the hour that the final undead film had reached completion, I was effectively drunk.
My body was heavy and I was only vaguely aware of wandering hands on my body- possibly my own hands, I wouldn't put it past myself. Too inebriated to hold a bottle, I realized, "If I am so drunk so soon, I will undoubtedly feel the repercussions by morning." I would do anything to avoid the painful presence of a hangover stabbing within my skull.
To display how incredibly responsible I was, I went to fetch water from the water jug with the intention that by drinking myself to sobriety I could stave off the possibility of a hang over. Unfortunately, fate left my water jug dry and empty, condemning me to the grips of 'hangovers'.
Of course I realized that not only I relied on this water. The family residing within this abode, all of whom would return tomorrow, would require hydration as well! I granted myself the responsibility of insuring I would provide these needs! Undoubtedly, I would fetch the water, and hopefully avoid a hangover as well.
"You cannot drive... " King indicated. I had no choice but to agree. I was not entirely sure I could walk, driving in such a state would be gloriously irresponsible, and I, as indicated by water fetching, was a very responsible young person.
My answer was to walk to the market. In the event that I may not be able to walk without toppling forward, I found it advantageous to run, nay, dead sprint, the entirety of the distance to the store. The fresh terror and adrenaline in my system from the horror movies effectively fueled my speed, but my coordination was left entirely to what was left of my mind. Despite my stumbles and falls I arrived at the market without a single scratch... from the hordes of undead I was supposedly fleeing.
Late evening shoppers regarded King and I with concern as we stumbled into the light and collapsed unceremoniously upon the water giving machine. Cautiously, a store keeper watched as we clumsily fed the machine and possibly touched every button in our demands for water. The machine would finally provide our water jug with water... actually with more water than we were expecting.
When the jug began to overflow and the machine showed no signs of stopping I panicked. I refused to waste water because, as everyone knows, water is nearly as valuable as gold in the post apocalypse horror films we viewed. I caught the water in my palms and drank it greedily from my hands, a difficult feat to accomplish in my advanced state of alcohol influence.
I could compare the citizens observing to be like the extras in a heroic film, gloriously cheering me on in my heroic quest to not waste water. But that would be a lie.
I was putting more water on myself than I was successfully consuming so my plan changed in the way that only drunken logic could. I needed to bathe myself in the surplus of water, and I should help King bath as well. As the continuous stream of water flowed wastefully from the stream, I doused myself with it and beckoned my comrade to do the same as I threw hand fulls of water presumably in King's general direction.
The flow of water finally ceased and we looked upon the hefty water jug with satisfaction... until King pointed out, "We cannot carry that." In my drunken state I'd managed to soak myself while attempting to drink and managed to mostly miss both of our bodies, leaving us surprisingly un-bathed. I was certain I would have little luck in carrying the heavy jug of water back to my dwelling place if it depended on my balance and coordination to arrive safely.
A clever plan was hatched and we absconded from the market with a shopping cart. We tenderly loaded the water jug into our cart and set on our way back home. At home, King and I holed up with the jug of water and bottle of wine and effectively shut ourselves away from the world that the horror films convinced us was lurking with the undead.
All was peaceful until King indicated, "The shopping cart on the lawn is a dead give away you were up to something... We have no choice..."we had to hide it.
King was correct and because the dark and endless night was far to reminiscent of the recently viewed horror movies, we devised a plan that didn't require us to repeat the walk to the store. I ventured into the rainy night with the shopping cart to deposit it on a lawn down the street, safely within a bush and wisely in the direction opposite of the store so that no one would suspect my humble abode.
The next day the plan worked perfectly. The family returned and suspected only that I had enjoyed the summer storm while consuming a pleasant book.
The neighbor, I imagine, was displeased with the shopping cart and deposited it on the lawn of the home beside his. That evening, the new bearer of the shopping cart deposited it on the next lawn, creeping closer to mine. During the course of the subsequent three days, the shopping cart made its way up the street I'd taken it down until it was deposited on my lawn.
At the point that the journey of the cart had returned it to my lawn, the house woman needed no explanation and wisely assumed that it was the result of my general mischief.
She commanded that I return the shopping cart to the market from whence it came and I reluctantly agreed to do so, bringing me to where I am now: courting a shopping cart through the streets, prepared to defend my basket from any homeless fellows wishing to commandeer it and doing a much better job of this now that I am sober.
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