PREVIOUS “MOUSE” POSTINGS CAN BE FOUND HERE.
Mouse Faces The Morning After
Last night is a blur. A tiny creature plays bongos against my temple. My mouth feels like I’ve been sucking on sand. I lie in my bed at The Compound not remembering how I got there or in the t-shirt I’m currently wearing. I have panties on, which I normally don’t sleep in. (I guess that’s a good thing.) Mortification thy name is Mouse!
There’s a rap on the door.
Tom enters carrying a tray. I don’t think I want to look at him. Ha, right. When have I ever not wanted to look at him? You know, except for when he thought I was a traitor?
He hands me a bottle of water and an ibuprofen.
I sit up. “Did you get me here?”
He nods. “You fell asleep. Face planted on the bar. Snoring. Not pretty.”
“I could have done without the play-by-play.”
“But I enjoyed providing it.”
I swallow the red capsule and wash it down with half of the bottle of water. He hands me a plate with toast on it, which I stare at while wondering if it’s a good idea. My stomach roils like the ocean in the middle of a hurricane.
“And changed my clothes?
He has the grace to look just a little embarrassed, but not enough in my opinion. “I was worried you couldn’t breathe. Your tight bra top think looked constrictive.”
“Right. Didn’t those stop being the popular in the late 1800s?”
“Strip,” I say.
“You’ve seen me naked. My turn to see you.”
“You’ve seen me with my shirt off. That’s all I saw of you.”
Damn bongo playing critters have upped the tempo.
“Are you saying that my shirt being off and your shirt being off are the same thing? Are you suggesting I have the same dimensions upstairs as you?” I’m sure that that would sound extremely threatening if it weren’t for the fact that raising my voice makes my head hurt worse, so it’s just an extremely threatening whisper. Not very effective. Especially directed at someone like Tom.
He grins. “Now, Mouse, you know I work out.”
“Grrr!” I lean back and pull my pillow over my face. It’s impossible to suffocate yourself like this, isn’t it? The instant you lose consciousness the pillow loosens up.
“Here’s a Gatorade, Mouse. Suck it down,” Tom says.
“Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d just like to die now.”
“Not happening. We’ve a charity event to attend tomorrow evening in DC and we have to be briefed.”
“A charity event? Briefed? Am I hallucinating?”
“Possibly, but that’s not relevant.”
“So I’m going on another mission?”
“Sounds that way.”
“At a charity event?”
“Posh. So I can wear a corset?”
“You’ll undress me when we get back?”
“You’re no fun.”
“Finally we agree on something.”