Free Write Friday #7: The Hangover
You are a hungover wizard who can't shake the feeling you fucked up last night.
The door crashed open with a song that felt like thunder on the inside of his skull. Dwayne, or as he preferred to be called, Margol The Magnificent sat bolt upright on the couch in his office and immediately wondered where he was and what was going on. The sight of his assistant, Melanie came into focus. She was looking at him with an expression of contempt and disgust written all voer her face.
"What did you do?"
"I don't," Margol groaned. "I don't remember," he said. "There were dancers and a lot of... beers. And then someone figured out how to turn the beer into Jaegermeister and then we turned water into tequila and then... oh man, my head."
"What the hell are you even wearing, Dwayne?" Melanie asked as she strode into the room. "Those aren't even your robes."
"Don't call me Dwayne," he said. "It's Margol. The Magnific-" His stomach lurched and he half rolled, half fell out of bed and as he landed painfully on the floor he was somewhat pleased to note that he had the foresight to place a garbage can within easy reach of the bed, which he know emptied the contents of his stomach- which wasn't much- into. "cent. Magnificent," he said.
"You're disgusting, Dwayne," Melanie said. Then she turned around and flung open the drapes that obscured his office. Daylight poured into the room which caused Margol to grab at the garbage can again to bury his face in it to block out the light. That in turned caused him to smell the contents of the garbage can and his stomach heaved again.
"You gotta get up."
"What? What far?"
"You've got your tenure hearing today."
Margol groaned and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He clutched at his head again. "Is that today?"
"Yes, you idiot," Melanie said. "What the hell were you thinking going out last night?"
"I wanted to celebrate," he replied. "Fizban over in Necromancy got his tenure appointment yesterday and mine was today and-" Something was bothering him. A feeling of dread and not just nausea and remorse filled him. "We did something. I-"
"You got horribly drunk and made multiple bad life choices," Melanie said. "Now get up... there's a shower in your bathroom. Go use it."
"There's a shower in my bathroom?"
"Well there is now, Dwayne.," Melanie replied. "I have some magic skills as well."
"Thanks, Melanie," he groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up. With an effort he reached up and grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled himself into a standing position.
"I'll brew up something to help with the hangover...and maybe to make you smell better," Melanie said.
"Thanks, Melanie," he replied again and staggered across the room and into what had been his bathroom, but now contained a large, luxurious shower that was already running and putting out clouds of multi-colored steam. He flung off the robes and stood naked in front of the open toilet for a moment, wondering if he was going to vomit again. Instead, he let out of a massive belch that tasted like a noxious mixture of tequila and Jaegermeister and nearly did vomit again, but managed to resist the urge to do so and stepped into the shower again.
What had they done last night? He scrubbed himself as best they could as flashes of the night came back to him. It was the damn turning water into tequila that had done it. It wasn't unusual for the Fellows of Merlin College, Cambridge to do such things. One legendary prank had turned the entire River Cam a rather charming shade of electric blue one year. That was life at England's premier college of magic and wizardry. Dwayne had been lucky to get a teaching spot here, never mind a full professorship and tenure- if he got it was going to be set for life. But that assumes he could figure out what the hell they had done last night. There was that little voice in the back of his head, poking, prodding, whispering: You fucked up, Dwayne. You fucked up so big.
The shower disappeared with a pop and he suddenly found himself standing naked in an empty bathroom- he was dry, however and he had to admit that whatever spell Melanie had cast, he felt a lot better. Another pop and a fresh sent of robes appeared in thin air in front of him. They were dress robes and looked fantastic. He smiled as he pulled them on over his head. Melanie had done it again. She was brilliant. Adjusting them slightly, he stepped out of the bathroom and Melanie was waiting for him with a steaming mug of... something green.
"What is that?"
"Never you mind," she said. "Just drink it."
Obediently, he took the mug from her and gulped it down. It fizzed and burned a little bit and almost made him choke, but after a second, the burning turned to a fantastic warming sensation that spread fro the center of his chest out to ends of his fingers and the tips of his toes. "I feel amazing!"
"Good," Melanie said. "That means it worked. Now, go and get tenure."
"Yes ma'am," Dwayne (or Margol. Though he was feeling more like a Dwayne still.) walked through the open door of his office and headed down the hall to the stairs and toward the Dean's Office. Dean Filberto The Fabulous had his own house across the wide, verdant lawn of Merlin College. Despite the temptation to ignore all the 'Keep Off The Grass' signs and to just run across the grass, Dwayne forced himself to follow the gravel paths and not to run, however much he wanted too. Finally, however, he reached the Dean's house and knocked on the door. After a long moment, Dean Filberto opened it and, seeing who it was, essayed a smile that made Dwayne pause.
"Ah, Professor Margol," he said. "Do come in."
"Thank you Dean Filberto," he said. "We're waiting for you upstairs in the drawing room. I'm sure you'll remember it."
"I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of seeing your drawing room," he said as he followed Dean Filberto up the stairs.
"Oh," Dean Filberto said, with that smile on his face again as he paused at the double doors that lead into the drawing room. "I don't think that's true," he opened the doors and lead Dwayne inside. Dwayne's expression froze and a cold feeling settled into his gut as the memories of what they had done last night came flooding back. The evidence all over the walls certainly helped jog his memory. Splashes of what looked like paint were all over the walls-- except, it wasn't paint. It looks as though the wood paneling had been redecorated by someone trying to control an out of control power sprayer. Shades of pink, purple and green were all over the walls and the three professors on the tenure board were doing their best to look solemn. "I don't mind redecorating now and again," Professor Filberto said, "but I do enjoy that portrait," he pointed over at the wall.
Someone had added a caption to it: "Dean Filberto the Flatulent." Dwayne closed his eyes and wished he could be literally anywhere else. Melanie was right. He was an idiot. And man, oh man, had he fucked up last night.
The door crashed open with a song that felt like thunder on the inside of his skull. Dwayne, or as he preferred to be called, Margol The Magnificent sat bolt upright on the couch in his office and immediately wondered where he was and what was going on. The sight of his assistant, Melanie came into focus. She was looking at him with an expression of contempt and disgust written all voer her face.
"What did you do?"
"I don't," Margol groaned. "I don't remember," he said. "There were dancers and a lot of... beers. And then someone figured out how to turn the beer into Jaegermeister and then we turned water into tequila and then... oh man, my head."
"What the hell are you even wearing, Dwayne?" Melanie asked as she strode into the room. "Those aren't even your robes."
"Don't call me Dwayne," he said. "It's Margol. The Magnific-" His stomach lurched and he half rolled, half fell out of bed and as he landed painfully on the floor he was somewhat pleased to note that he had the foresight to place a garbage can within easy reach of the bed, which he know emptied the contents of his stomach- which wasn't much- into. "cent. Magnificent," he said.
"You're disgusting, Dwayne," Melanie said. Then she turned around and flung open the drapes that obscured his office. Daylight poured into the room which caused Margol to grab at the garbage can again to bury his face in it to block out the light. That in turned caused him to smell the contents of the garbage can and his stomach heaved again.
"You gotta get up."
"What? What far?"
"You've got your tenure hearing today."
Margol groaned and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He clutched at his head again. "Is that today?"
"Yes, you idiot," Melanie said. "What the hell were you thinking going out last night?"
"I wanted to celebrate," he replied. "Fizban over in Necromancy got his tenure appointment yesterday and mine was today and-" Something was bothering him. A feeling of dread and not just nausea and remorse filled him. "We did something. I-"
"You got horribly drunk and made multiple bad life choices," Melanie said. "Now get up... there's a shower in your bathroom. Go use it."
"There's a shower in my bathroom?"
"Well there is now, Dwayne.," Melanie replied. "I have some magic skills as well."
"Thanks, Melanie," he groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up. With an effort he reached up and grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled himself into a standing position.
"I'll brew up something to help with the hangover...and maybe to make you smell better," Melanie said.
"Thanks, Melanie," he replied again and staggered across the room and into what had been his bathroom, but now contained a large, luxurious shower that was already running and putting out clouds of multi-colored steam. He flung off the robes and stood naked in front of the open toilet for a moment, wondering if he was going to vomit again. Instead, he let out of a massive belch that tasted like a noxious mixture of tequila and Jaegermeister and nearly did vomit again, but managed to resist the urge to do so and stepped into the shower again.
What had they done last night? He scrubbed himself as best they could as flashes of the night came back to him. It was the damn turning water into tequila that had done it. It wasn't unusual for the Fellows of Merlin College, Cambridge to do such things. One legendary prank had turned the entire River Cam a rather charming shade of electric blue one year. That was life at England's premier college of magic and wizardry. Dwayne had been lucky to get a teaching spot here, never mind a full professorship and tenure- if he got it was going to be set for life. But that assumes he could figure out what the hell they had done last night. There was that little voice in the back of his head, poking, prodding, whispering: You fucked up, Dwayne. You fucked up so big.
The shower disappeared with a pop and he suddenly found himself standing naked in an empty bathroom- he was dry, however and he had to admit that whatever spell Melanie had cast, he felt a lot better. Another pop and a fresh sent of robes appeared in thin air in front of him. They were dress robes and looked fantastic. He smiled as he pulled them on over his head. Melanie had done it again. She was brilliant. Adjusting them slightly, he stepped out of the bathroom and Melanie was waiting for him with a steaming mug of... something green.
"What is that?"
"Never you mind," she said. "Just drink it."
Obediently, he took the mug from her and gulped it down. It fizzed and burned a little bit and almost made him choke, but after a second, the burning turned to a fantastic warming sensation that spread fro the center of his chest out to ends of his fingers and the tips of his toes. "I feel amazing!"
"Good," Melanie said. "That means it worked. Now, go and get tenure."
"Yes ma'am," Dwayne (or Margol. Though he was feeling more like a Dwayne still.) walked through the open door of his office and headed down the hall to the stairs and toward the Dean's Office. Dean Filberto The Fabulous had his own house across the wide, verdant lawn of Merlin College. Despite the temptation to ignore all the 'Keep Off The Grass' signs and to just run across the grass, Dwayne forced himself to follow the gravel paths and not to run, however much he wanted too. Finally, however, he reached the Dean's house and knocked on the door. After a long moment, Dean Filberto opened it and, seeing who it was, essayed a smile that made Dwayne pause.
"Ah, Professor Margol," he said. "Do come in."
"Thank you Dean Filberto," he said. "We're waiting for you upstairs in the drawing room. I'm sure you'll remember it."
"I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of seeing your drawing room," he said as he followed Dean Filberto up the stairs.
"Oh," Dean Filberto said, with that smile on his face again as he paused at the double doors that lead into the drawing room. "I don't think that's true," he opened the doors and lead Dwayne inside. Dwayne's expression froze and a cold feeling settled into his gut as the memories of what they had done last night came flooding back. The evidence all over the walls certainly helped jog his memory. Splashes of what looked like paint were all over the walls-- except, it wasn't paint. It looks as though the wood paneling had been redecorated by someone trying to control an out of control power sprayer. Shades of pink, purple and green were all over the walls and the three professors on the tenure board were doing their best to look solemn. "I don't mind redecorating now and again," Professor Filberto said, "but I do enjoy that portrait," he pointed over at the wall.
Someone had added a caption to it: "Dean Filberto the Flatulent." Dwayne closed his eyes and wished he could be literally anywhere else. Melanie was right. He was an idiot. And man, oh man, had he fucked up last night.
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