Member-only story
All She Wants for Christmas Is You
It was just a winter thing.
There were worse things than getting drunk on Christmas Eve, weren’t there? You didn’t know — the haze of beer and shots from your friends had muddled things a bit — but at least the bartender was nice enough to call you a cab home.
By the time the little white cab arrived, your mates had to hold you up by both arms so you didn’t make a face-plant against the threat of black ice. “Man, you really have to get your act together,” Frank said. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your sister’s tomorrow?”
You mumbled an unintelligible response right before Frank and your other buddy Drew shoved you safely into the back of the cab.
“Take him to Bender and Western,” Frank said, throwing two twenties the cab driver’s way before you closed your eyes and tried not to think about your churning stomach.
By the time the cab arrived at a familiar building — oh, wait, that was your apartment — you could walk out of the cab unattended, albeit you nearly stumbled when your feet met the curb.
“Happy holidays,” the cabbie said, and you just waved your hand in acknowledgement.
That should have been the end of it — going upstairs, getting into your apartment, and passing out on the couch.
