Animals

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You know how it is. Saturday afternoon. You wake up and you can’t move.

I blinked and the floaters on my eyeballs shifted to reveal Tyler in her ratty old kimono over in the doorway. ‘Way I see it,’ she said, glass in one hand, lit cigarette in the other, ‘girls are tied to beds for two reasons: sex and exorcisms. So, which was it with you?’

I squinted up at my right arm, which felt like it was levitating — but no, nothing so glamorous. The plastic bangle on my right wrist had hoopla’d over a bar on the bedhead during the night, manacling my hand and suspending my arm over the pillow. I wriggled upwards to release it but only managed to travel an inch or so before a strange, elasticky feeling pulled me back. I looked down. My tights — or rather the left leg (I was still sluttishly sporting the right, mid-thigh) — had wrapped itself around a bed knob. I tugged. No good. The knot held fast.

‘Get that for me, would you?’ I croaked.

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