“Playboys” were strewn about as I cautiously stepped into the room. The ash smell of cigars filled the room and overwhelmed my nostrils as my eyes tried to make some sense of the scene in front of me. The very best of Hugh Heffner wasn’t even the weirdest thing on the burgundy shag carpet. A busted lava lamp was oozing in the corner, a full set of monopoly was set up (seemingly in mid-game) in the middle of the nudie magazines, an open packof diapers with a cabbage patch kid spread eagle next to it, a still-burning cigarette in an ash try in the shape of a dragon on the side table apparently from the 60’s, various stuffed animals torn to bits with their stuffing all over the room. These were only a few of the things that lay about the scene. “Mark? Are you here?” I ventured.

 

I heard a sputter in the bathroom, kind of a relieved sigh muffled by the surrounding sea-foam green tile. As I jumped from island to island in the carpet, I wondered what the hell had happened here. Was he robbed? Was this the product of a 72-hour bender of Nyquil, Speed and Dr. Pepper? Or was Mark just the victim of a tragically misbalanced mix of Cheeseballs and pixie sticks? Honestly, that crossed my mind.

 

I made it to the bathroom and slid onto the tile. The tub was overflowing with cloudy water and Mark lay face down in the toilet bowl in only a cheetah print cowboy hat and his Hello Kitty boxers. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

He slowly lifted his bruised head, “Oh man, where to begin? Remember that broad from the bar last night? Turns out she’s a working lady, if ya know what I mean…”