Last Night: Part 1

I came home last night, (or was it this morning?) anyways, I woke up naked and sitting in my bathroom sink. I had no memory of how I had gotten myself into the bathroom sink, or even why. I was just there, fastened in tightly like a champagne cork. There was, I suppose, one outstanding clue that I should have taken into consideration right away, but failed to, my George Foreman grill. In the past, when I have become belligerently intoxicated, I would sometimes deprive myself of all senses by going into the bathroom, grill in tow, turn off the lights and try to calm myself by cooking a burger or two. It's what got me through college during the hard nights. This instance had appeared to be no different. When I finally managed to pop my ass from the vacuum that the sink had created overnight, I noticed , along with the large red ring around my lower waist and the backwards impression of the letters 'H' and 'C' pressed into my lower back, a large drawing of a penis that was sprayed onto the tile of the shower wall in ketchup topped off with what appeared to be a Hellman's ejaculate. Must have been a hell of a night.

I walked out of the bathroom, ignoring the mess that I'd soon have to clean, (the grandparents were coming over that afternoon) and headed into the kitchen to collect my thoughts over a pot of thick, black coffee. It was there that I noticed something else that was as unique to me as being drunk and grilling in the bathroom, though this ritual wasn't at all familiar. Seven bowls of Cap'n Crunch cereal with the sixth and seventh bowl having been filled with orange juice, lined up in a row on the kitchen counter. I don't eat cereal, nor do I enjoy the pulpy, acidic taste of Florida's best. "I must have been totally wasted.", I thought, "My god, did I drive to go and get this shit?". Standing there next to the counter, trying to piece together the events that lead up to the bewildering scene before me, I heard a strange yet recognizable moan coming from around the corner. Apprehensively, I took the next few steps into the living room where I was shocked to see something both unexpected and disturbing. My grandfather, on the floor snuggled up with two pillows and shamefully disrobed from the waist down. I grabbed a blanket from the couch, tossed it over the pastiness of his wrinkled skin and attempted to rouse him by gently nudging his shoulder with my foot.

"Grandpa? Grandpa, wake up."

He laid there in his relaxed and unconscious state, flapping his lips like a child does while imitating the sound of a horse. I knelt down and patted his cheek until he suddenly opened his eyes without caution, startling me and causing me to stumble a few steps backwards.

"Jesus?", he let out.

At first I thought his outburst was one of surprised exclamation. Only soon did I realize that his was a frightened and disoriented query.

"Yes?", I answered instinctively.

"Am I, am I dead?", he asked.

Taking into consideration the deep rooted religious beliefs that had calculated every move of my grandfather; the fact that I was curious as to why he had already arrived at my house and without grandma, not to mention half naked and asleep, that, and coupled with the already bizarre events leading up to this moment, I decided to try and make the best of it and have some fun.

"Yes, Orlan. Yes you are."

He laid there for a moment, paused and curious. He looked down at the floor then back up again several times.

"Why are you naked?", he asked.

It was then that I realized I had failed to get dressed. I was naked and standing in front of my grandfather assuming the identity of the Almighty himself. Oh well. I went with it.

"Um, everyone's naked in Heaven.", I proclaimed.

He right away shook his head as if that had actually made sense to him. He then rolled over like a turtle would if you placed it on its back, knocking away the blanket I had used to cover him and exposing his unfortunate looking backside. He stood up, composed himself and was silent for a moment.

"Christopher?", he groaned, trying to focus his eyes. "Where are my slacks?"

It was Freshman year at Millikin all over again.

"I, I don't know, grandpa.", I said.

Now, as normal it is for me to turn a bathroom into a place to prepare meals, the current situation I found myself in, you know, standing in a room with my grandfather, both of us naked and discussing the whereabouts of pants, really made me start to think about what it was that I was doing with my life.

"Well you find 'em. I've got to urinate."

With that being said, I stepped aside allowing my grandfather to pass by and stood there scratching my head and pondering the location of his neatly creased pants. Grandpa liked his pants, whether denim or gabardine, to have a nice crisp crease in them. It made him feel classy even if he was mowing the lawn.

"Why that looks like a penis!", shouted my grandfather from the bathroom. "Is that mayonnaise?"

He found the ketchup dick. My grandfather emerged from the bathroom, shaking his head and wearing a bath towel the best he could.

"Find my slacks yet?", he asked.

I had stopped looking once I heard him make mention of the perverse artwork that adorned my shower. I glanced over at the door handle on the bedroom door and saw them.

"There they are, grandpa."

As he walked over to put his pants on, I felt I should do the same, after all, one doesn't want to be the only one standing naked in a room with your elder. I walked into my bedroom to find some clothes and was met with another surprise that gave me more of a shock than discovering my grandfather in my apartment, my grandmother sleeping in my bed. In my bed and holding an empty bottle of ketchup. The events of last night were no longer in question. This was one hell of a night.