Whisper

68

I awoke the next morning laying on the floor of the recording studio, right alongside a couch. I had either fallen off the couch somewhere through the night or didn't quite make it to the couch, while attempting to crawl across the floor.

I wasn't sure which scenario it was and at this pint, I didn't really care.

I felt like absolute crap. My head was pounding and my mouth felt like it was full of sand. Shitty sand.

I looked around. There were beer cans everywhere.

"Quite a party," I said aloud, as I pulled myself slowly up on the couch.

"I must have had a good time."

.

I suddenly got a flashback to the way my life had once been. Waking almost every morning, feeling exactly as I did at this point.

I shook my head, snickering at myself. "I guess what they say is true. We never really do change."

.

I got up and walked ever so slowly, to the bathroom. As I relieved myself, I thought of the mess that was awaiting me upstairs.

I honestly felt like saying the hell with it, pack up some clothes, give the house away and move as far away from Maynard's Rock as I could possibly go.

Australia was looking pretty good at this point. I honestly did not want to face the disaster zone, upstairs.

"Always wanted to see a kangaroo," I snipped, as I opened the medicine cabinet. There were ibuprofen in the cabinet. I opened the bottle, took three and washed it down with water, that I drank directly from the tap.

.

I slowly walked up the stairs to the main floor and headed for my bedroom. I never even looked in the other rooms. I decided to start with my bedroom and move back toward the kitchen.

Or maybe I would just fall on the bed and pass out. The latter was looking pretty appealing.

.

As I opened the door to my bedroom, I was held in place by shock.

"What the shit?"

.

Everything was exactly the way it should have been. All the clothes were put away. Furniture back where it belonged, drawers back in the bureaus and even the bed was made. The only things missing were what had been broken.

Even the floor looked like it had been cleaned.

.

"How long was I out?"

.

Slowly I walked back up the hall, checking each room, as I passed it.

Every room was the same. Everything was as it should be...

For the most part.

.

I stood in the kitchen and opened the cupboards. Even the doors that had been damaged, were mysteriously repaired. The dents in the walls were repaired, although every room would need a paint job.

.

"What the hell is this?"

.

The cupboards were all empty, which was a reminder that I had not dreamed what I saw the day before.

Through the window I could see the cardboard boxes on the veranda. There were more than there had been the day before, along with a variety of broken lamps and destroyed pictures.