Where's my coat?

                Anyway, today was just a rollercoaster of awesome and suck. Okay, wow, today I just really don’t want to blog. But no, I will blog. Because routine is good for me (reminded of Memento) I REALLY HOPE THAT I’M NOT CREEPY AND I GO KILL PEOPLE AND LIE TO MYSELF RANDOMLY. Because that would be such a terrible thing to do.

                Anyways, I feel like I should write a muse. Except for I don’t know how well I’d carry it out. Well, I think I’ll try. Inx, you might appreciate this one.

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                The thumping from the speakers vibrated the floors and rocked her body. She could feel the buzzing in her chest, and it made it hard to breathe. Her black stilettos clicked on the ground as she stumbled over to where her friends were. She mumbled at them incoherently and gestured violently with her hands. Half the contents of the glass in one of the hands sloshed out, and she cursed. She wobbled in place, hesitated for a moment, and then downed the rest of the amber liquid. She drew her hand across her mouth, and set the glass down with a thud on the table. “Let’s go dance,” she slurred, as she pulled the equally inebriated girls onto the dirty dance floor. She swayed to the beat, moving her body in what could be a suggestive manner if she weren’t so drunk. Somehow, wildly flailing her arms just didn’t achieve the effect that she was going for. She spun around in a circle, and suddenly the world was out of her control. The world continued to spin even after she stopped, and she crumpled to the floor. The last thought she had was that the floor with oddly shiny… She met the floor with a resounding thump.

                “What? Where am I?” Heavy lidded eyes drifted open to see the same dance floor she was just on a minute ago. She was oddly comfortable, as she became more aware of the soft fabric that surrounded her.

                “You passed out.” He spoke crisply. They sat at the bar, with her drooped over a chair and him looking on disapprovingly. He looked at her with a stern glance, noticing her hair astray and makeup smudged. “I pulled you out of there.”

                She hiccupped. “The jacket is fluffy,” she informed him with a goofy smile. “Fluffy bunnies are also cute,” she added, lulling her head back.

                “It’s my jacket,” he answered primly. “Considering that your outfit barely covers your… assets, I decided it would be prudent to get you into something vaguely decent.”

                “Are you a prince?” She squinted up at him, attempting to comprehend the situation.

                He smiled wryly. “Only if you think so. Not that it matters when you’re like this. Now are you ready to go?”

                “Go where?” She closed her eyes. “Ugh, my head hurts… do you want to dance?”

                “Considering that you can’t even stand up, no. Now let’s go.”

                “But I need to get my coat.” She struggled to her feet, and fell over into his ready arms. “Where’s my coat?”

                “You didn’t have one.” Exasperated, he started gently supporting her toward the door.

                “Where?” She mumbled something, and buried her face into her chest. “You smell pretty. And you’re warm.” They stumbled out the door, toward his car. “Thank you for being my prince.”

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                I guess this was just an exercise in dialogue. I don’t even know what I was doing. Oh well, it’s late. And I practiced writing, which is good enough.