"It's the roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd!" Albert slurred from underneath the lampshade. Greasepaint from his face was already running off onto his game day shirt, with its giant terrapin.
"Slow down, Galleycat," Petey said. "We still have two hours 'til game time." Petey laughed and took a picture with his cell phone and then took the lampshade off Galleycat's head.
Albert, Galleycat to his buddies, had a miniscule tolerance for alcohol, but it never stopped him. Galleycat walked into the kitchen to look for more beer, but it was gone. He grabbed a can of Coke and the closest bottle of liquor. Back in his living room, he guzzled half the coke then poured some gin into the can.
"Hey, Petey, take some of this bad ass stuff!" Larry said, handing Petey a joint. "It was grown in Bat Segundo!"
"Bat guano, stupid." Petey took a drag and passed it back to Larry.
"Yeah, bat poop." Larry busted out in laughter, the smoke flowing out of his flaring nostrils, like a dragon chasing a pack of promenading poodles.
"Hey, I think my mom's home!" Galleycat screamed as he ran to the window to look outside. "Oh my God, everybody clean up!" Galleycat had become Albert, who had become instantly sober.
Larry joined Albert at the window and peaked through the curtains. "Dude, your mother wears Army boots!"
"Hey, that was snark. She can't help it, she's in the Reserves."
Albert's friends scattered, grabbing cups, bottles, and ashtrays. They dumped as much as they could into the big black garbage bag lying by the couch. Albert watched as Larry headed toward the garbage bag with an ashtray in his hand. Before Larry made it, the front door opened. Albert was relieved when he saw Larry toss the ashtray behind some books on a shelf in the bookcase.
"Albert? What's going on in here?" Albert's mom asked, waving her hand in front of her face in an effort to part the smoke. "It's like the Will of the Wisp."
"Mom, what happened? You were supposed to be gone for the weekend? Is everything okay? They didn't kick you out did they?"
"Stop trying to muddle the situation, Albert James Holloway!"
Albert cringed. When his full name made its way out of his mother's mouth, he knew the pushups were coming.
"Every single one of you, drop everything and give me ten...books--th--the books, there on fire!" she screamed pointing at the smoke coming from the bookcase.
Albert ran to the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher. When the smoke was gone he turned around to find only his mother left standing in the room.
"I'm really sorry mom," Albert said, hoping the bulging vein on her forehead wouldn't pop.
"Are the books ruined?" she asked.
"Only two look like they got damaged," Albert replied.
"My signed first edition of Mr. Bunion and one of your books."
"To Spank or Not to Spank."
I wonder if that was published by Elora's Cave?
Scoreing to come