Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Monday, July 29, 2013

12:46am, Sunday

Damnit, it happened again. I feel around. My arm is pinned under something. I try to move my other arm. I feel the smoothness of the sheets beneath me. I'm in a bed. Is it mine?

I try to glance over. I can see the convention center. I guess it is mine.

I allow my hand to try to lift what's trapping me. Okay, this feels very much like flesh. Soft flesh.

A woman on top of me. I've dreamed of this moment for so long. That's not to say I'd be prepared. I mean, I came prepared. I just didn't know what I'd do if it really happened.

The woman moans as she shifts a little.

My free hand seems to move of its own accord. It runs its hands through her long hair.

The woman rolls over. She almost slips off the bed. I grab her before she falls and pull her back onto the bed.

"Thanks", she murmurs.

Okay, even though its slurred from the effects of sleep, I know that voice.

It can't be.

I reach for the pocket flashlight on my key chain. I shine the light on the backboard.

As the French might say, 'Holy merde!'


I'm not going to lie. I've wanted this ever since I first saw her, but I was kind of hoping that we were know, drunk.

I inch away from her, but she slips her arms around me, like I was some stuffed animal.

Okay, what the hell.


The sun peeks in through the curtains. Angie's draped around me like before. Not having much of an affinity for drinking, I wouldn't know how long the effects of alcohol last, but I assumed that they'd have worn off by now.

I glance down. As ever, I'm a bit of an early riser, myself.

The last thing I want to do is give her a poke.

I roll over, giving myself a mild sprain. I fall off, not having judged how much free space I had.

At least, I landed on my back. I crawl back into the other bed: mine.


I wake back up. I glance over to Angie. She seems to be sleeping soundly.

Now, I've done some things I'm not proud of, said a lot of things I'm not proud of, thought a great many things I'm not proud of.

More often than not, I feel like I could never deserve a girl like this in my life, even though I'd really like to have one.

I really hate being so lonely.


"Last day of the Con!"

I see Angie standing over me, fully dressed.

"Better get dressed. Breakfast'll be here soon."

I stretch out and yawn, dragging myself out of bed.

Last day of the Con. Shit.


I finish my breakfast. Angie's long gone. Is she avoiding what happened?

Can't say I blame her too much.


Stalking the convention floor. Trying not to buy anything without Angie. Why does there have to be so much cool stuff for sale?!


The Hub display, where you can talk about your favorite pony. May as well step right up.

I get in the booth.

"My favorite pony is Fluttershy. She's sweet, kind to animals and in spite of her timid nature, believes in doing what's right."

All right.


artbyangieg: 'Holy shit! Can't believe what I just saw at Breaking Bad panel #SDCC'

Okay, that explains what happened to Angie.

As for me, I'm going to the 'Cartoon Voices 2' panel. I just know it's going to be fun.



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