A Narrow Escape

I really shouldn’t have had all those vodka and cokes. I usually know my limits but last night it seemed as though there was a voice in my head insisting I continue drinking. Then I noticed the shape next to me and groaned inwardly, maybe it wasn’t my imagination. My head screamed in protest as I carefully turned to see who had accompanied me home last night. That’s when I was blinded by a golden laser that burned straight through my retinas and set my brain on fire. Instinctively I burrowed my chin into my chest and sought shelter beneath the quilt.

It was then that I decided a scouting mission was called for. No more rash decisions were to be made until I had some understanding of my surroundings. Raising a protective arm to block the morning sunlight piercing through the gap in the curtains I slowly emerged into reality once again. I blinked a few times as my eyes gradually adjusted to the murky half-light in the room. I took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm my raging headache but this only served to dry out my mouth even more, which is saying something as my tongue felt as though it had spent a fortnight on a sunbed in the Sahara.

Struggling to ignore the marching band performing inside my head I began to analyse the situation. I was occupying half of a double bed which lay against the centre of the back wall of what appeared to be a bombsite. If every attic in the city was emptied into a washing machine, churned around for a few hours and tossed onto the floor it would look something like this. I had never seen anything so absurdly messy in my life. Dog-eared books, faded magazines and odd scraps of paper were strewn haphazardly across the room. Whatever animal lay snoring next to me clearly had no use for wardrobes either. Mounds of shirts, shorts and shoes were piled to well above the ankle so that the brown carpet was only visible in small portions here and there. If this person’s cleanliness was anything to go by I could only assume that the carpet had not always been brown. The door lay some twelve yards away on the opposite side of the minefield, guarded by a tower of discarded pizza boxes.

Next, I took stock of my own personal situation. I was clad in only my underwear, an unusually large grubby t-shirt (mine?) and a single sock. Therefore, before I could even begin the treacherous journey towards the door I must locate my jeans, jacket, and shoes. I was willing to sacrifice the sock. I did a quick sweep of the room. My jacket was draped across the end of the bed and my jeans lay in a crumpled heap on the floor just next to it. My right shoe was next to my jeans but the left was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly I was jolted by an immense snore, a guttural sound that would have been right at home at the zoo. I glanced to my left and saw a pair of eyelids flutter but remain closed, for now. Time was of the essence.

Carefully, as though peeling the cover off a bomb, I lifted the quilt and slid my legs out of the bed. Planting my feet on the floor I braced myself, took a deep breath and stood up. Suddenly the marching band seemed to up its intensity while jumping on a merry-go-round. The world lurched to the side and I staggered, clutching the bed post to remain upright. I knew it would be a miracle if I could escape undetected. With great difficulty, I squirmed into my jeans silently thanking God I hadn’t chosen to wear my extra-skinny pair. Finally, I grabbed my shoe and my jacket and turned to face my next obstacle.

I surveyed the wreckage before me trying to plan the safest route through the debris. Silently, and with as much precision as my throbbing headache would allow, I began my harrowing journey. It must have taken me at least half an hour to cross the room but I persevered and succeeded in navigating the precarious terrain without so much as a squeak. Before I knew it that gleaming silver beacon of hope was within arm’s reach. Victoriously I reached towards it.

Now I was never much good at physics in school but any fool can tell you about the build-up of static electricity when you walk across a carpet in socks. So caught up was I in my daring escape that this vital nugget of information slipped my mind. As I extended my hand towards the metal handle, a single bright blue spark shot off it and into the tip of my index finger. Perhaps normally this is nothing more than a pinprick but in my current condition it felt like a stab wound. An explosion threw the marching band off the merry-go-round and I gasped.

I heard a rustling behind me and spun round to see a huge shape looming out of the darkness. I had awoken the beast. In this split-second I was faced with a decision. My mission was compromised and I could either flee with the chance of pursuit or stay and face the consequences.

“Hey.”

That did it. The freedom beyond the door beckoned with a force impossible to ignore. I wrenched open the bedroom door and tore out into the hall. With my jacket and a single shoe tucked under my arm I raced down the hallway like a crazed rugby player and barrelled through the front door.

Bent double out in the corridor I panted victoriously. My head was pounding and my stomach was doing somersaults. That was a narrow escape. I knew from now on I would have to be much more careful on nights out.

Tenderly I straightened up and looked around. The beige walls and wooden floor seemed curiously familiar. The truth hit me like a hammer blow and I slumped against the wall in despair. It was my apartment.