Parental Guidance is Advised Pt.3

        Waking up to an unsettling mixture of the sun, a bad dream, the smell of sex combined with stale beer, and his dog, Possum, licking his face, Frank opened his eyes and pushed his stain-covered duvet over his knees. His room was strewn with empty beer bottles (but they were the clear ones, not the green nor the shit-coloured brown ones), painted art, and novels -- a fucking plethora of novels covering essentially every nook and cranny that wasn't swallowed in either beer or art. Oh, and he had a small wooden closet which held his semi-respectable collection of quasi-vintage t-shirts and worn black jeans. Frank lifted his head, grabbed a partly-burnt cigarette he found on the floor alongside a matchbook and pondered his circumstances with a long and slow drag of assorted toxins.

"How'd ya sleep big fella?" A woman's voice rang as Frank jumped and turned his head to the bedroom door where a young women, say mid-20s, stood. Frank's blurred haze of a mind cleared enough to allow him to recall this woman. But he also recalled doing blow off of this woman's breastbone. A pseudo-epiphany if you will.

"Oh hey, well, if you look past my pounding head which feels like the fall of the Berlin Wall, then I'm all right." She came forward and jumped into bed next to him and took a puff of his cigarette.

"Do you want mama to kiss it better?"

"I was never one for the whole oedipal complex thing, sorry," Frank replied as he reclaimed his cigarette and hopped out of bed and began to put Yesterday's booze-stained clothes back on. And as he began to put his pants back on, he noticed some blood on his hands. It was at this moment that Frank remembered more of last night. The gun, the blood, the whole botched operation. Jesus, he thought to himself. His mind started to run, like it always does, and he ambled out of the room to mix himself a stiff snort.

"Darling, is everything all right? What's the matter?" the woman questioned.

"Well, if you see the four horsemen of the apocalypse as okay, then yes, everything is dandy."

"Oh don't be melodramatic Frank, you know that turns me off."

"Right, how could I forget your precious little ideals that need to be satisfied 24-fucking-hours of the day you coquette of a whore.”