Mez is zeM: January 2010

I’m thinking. Am I alive? How could that be? There’s a pressure on my chest. I open my eyes to find a naked woman lying on top of me. I wriggle my way out from under her only to find three other women in my bed. I admit, the salesman was right when he said my king sized bed could hold up to four people, although I still couldn’t explain why that made me want the bed.
This shouldn’t be happening. I should be dead. We should all be dead. All the news reports said the asteroid would hit Earth and obliterate the human race almost instantaneously. How am I still alive?

I slide out of bed, being careful not to wake any of the women, who are all surprisingly way to attractive. I guess a catastrophe really does make a bald man sexy. I made my way to the living room where the pile of sweaty clothes pile up in front of my apparently smashed in television. I pick up a shirt from a chair and follow the trail into the kitchen where I pull my pants from the fridge.

After dressing, I walk out of my place, fearing some kind of half apocalyptic feud state and half zombie country, but I found neither. Sure the streets were deserted, but that’s partly because of previous construction on the street.

I made my way to the café down the street, where I usually pick up my breakfast. I realized this was out of habit, since there’s no way it should have been open. And yet when I arrived I found the door open and the place in disarray. I see Mindy walk out from behind the kitchen, like I’ve seen her do many times, except this time she looked different. She looked happy. No, almost overjoyed. Which is not only a rare occasion; it’s a first. Maybe something did strike the earth and she stayed around the café out of fear going outside. Then it hit’s me. Radiating pain from my groin area, that I haven’t felt since I first discovered masturbation.

Mindy quickly came to my aid, comforting me and kissing me as I crumbled to the floor. I asked for some ice and she rushed to get it for me. Why was Mindy like this? Then it hit me like the second wave of penis hurt. We slept together. This realization actually made the pain feel worse. I don’t remember coming to the café last night. Admittedly it was probably the last place I would go, considering the circumstances of world events and the fact that the last time I came here they gave me a stale bagel. Why would I sleep with Mindy? She’s always curt and never smiled at me, which I know isn’t an indicator of a woman’s desire to sleep with you, but it’s a pretty good start.

Mindy came rushing back with a pack of ice and smiling like she stopped the asteroid with her bare hands and saved humanity. Yep, we definitely slept together, I thought. Mindy handed me the pack and I immediately applied it to the swollen areas. She began talking about how her mother never thought she would find someone, especially after all the therapy she’s been through. I was going through to much pain to plan our future together, when she ran off to make me something to eat. I saw it as my only chance; I escaped.

I felt like a dairy cow after a long day at work. I hobbled down the street trying to piece together the night before. So I slept with Mindy and of course the women back at the apartment. Where else did I go? I started to remember alcohol, when I heard a piercing screech of tires, lurching around the corner. It frightened me initially until I saw the person behind the wheel. It was Diane, my sidekick and wholesome friend. She must have surely been with me the night before, I thought. Maybe she could help. Diane stopped the car and got out with smile and an umbrella. She looked disheveled, which was so unlike her, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt given the circumstance of world events.

Another thing that was so unlike her was when she slept with me last night. It hit me much like it hit me with Mindy, except that with Diane it was accompanied by a surprisingly sturdy umbrella to the head. Diane was livid at me; clearly recounting the go for broke sex we had last night, stating over and over again (along with accompanying blows) that she was married and how could I compromise our friendship for sex. I thought it must have been good since she was so mad at me, which was something I should have just thought, instead of saying it out loud. Diane gave me one more solid body blow of rage before backing off toward the car. I was relieved it was over, but became terrified when she started to drive the car towards me, while screaming how she was going to castrate me for what I let her do.

I was conscious enough by now to take that cue for a quick dash in the opposite direction. I kept running and running until I couldn’t hear her screams. I ended up near my neighborhood and across the street from Leary’s Pub. The windows were shattered and the place looked trashed. Oh shit. Cathy. I knew bartenders were a fickle bunch, but that didn’t stop me from falling for Cathy. We always had long conversations about firemen calendars and plenty of laughs about the sexual tension. I became worried that something might have happened to her, but more concerned that the series of events that happened last night didn’t include her. I started to make my way to Cathy’s place a few blocks away, hoping we didn’t sleep together. Cathy has a rule to never go out with someone she’s had a one-night stand with, unless of course they were a fireman. I mean we were all supposed to be dead today so surely Cathy couldn’t hold my actions against me. Nor would I against her.

I approached Cathy’s apartment door and found it open. I slowly made my way in calling out Cathy’s name, but no response. Could she have died? Could the zombies I didn’t see out there have singled her out and propped her up as a zombie/human overlord? All of that faded when saw a pair of pants in the hallway to her bedroom. They were at least a 40 waist, which I knew for a fact Cathy didn’t wear. I rushed into Cathy’s bedroom only to find her amidst naked men like a Hugo Boss billboard. I called out her name and she awoke, surprised to see me. She got out of bed and led me into her kitchen. I felt insecure about her tryst, even though I was the last person who had the right to be, when she started to cry. She told me she thought she was going to die and wanted to be with me, but couldn’t find me. She clarified that the men were in fact fireman, but again didn’t think we’d be alive to suffer the consequences and thought there wouldn’t be another time where so many attractive guys would like her. I smiled and realized how similar our minds worked. I already knew she was perfect for me, but now I had to convince her that it’s true. I also have to get rid of the women in my apartment. That might send a wrong message. Or maybe we’ll call it even.