The morning of December 20th was spectacularly cloudy and averagely depressing for the city of Cleveland. On this Friday, Connor Haverford slept through his first two alarms, only to wake up in a panicked frenzy. Quickly, he ran his head under the cold shower water and brushed the stink of last night’s happy hour and Taco Bell out of his teeth. It wasn’t a surprise that as he pulled into the company parking lot he bumped into the fender of his boss’ parked BMW and instinctively reversed his second-hand Honda Civic to park in the farthest spot away. Connor had fled the scene for three distinct fears: he had just learned that Obamacare did not, in fact, cover car insurance; this was not the way he imagined his boss finally learning his name; and, he would probably have failed a breathalyzer test since he was still drunk from last night.
After making it in the office surprisingly easily, though not with ease, Connor began to feel his finally conscious body’s plight to purge his system of beer and nachos. Knowing that the company’s janitors finish cleaning his fourth floor bathroom at exactly 8:37 a.m., he rushed his aching body to relieve itself. Planting on the toilet of the handicap stall he had snuck into just before Jerry from Accounting entered the bathroom, Connor thanked Jesus as he opened his iPhone to find a new contact from happy hour saved as “Hard 7”. Jerry was famous for his explosive toilet echoes and really interrupted the satisfaction of an apparently successful happy hour. With literally zero recollection of neither the girl’s name nor any events that had transpired that evening, he decided to pursue.
Connor: “Hey nice meeting you last night” At least I think so. Even a hard seven with beer goggles is at least a soft six sober, right? Jesus, Jerry, did you eat a cannon or do your bowels actually create something that loud?
That same morning…
A young blonde haired, ample bodied girl, who was equally attractive as she was suddenly conscious, jumped at the blaring sound of an alarm clock. Climbing over her inversely conscious deflowerer, she was quick to snooze her iPhone jingle and felt relieved she had not awoken her bunkmate and happy hour companion. Morgan Saxon knew that sleeping until this late meant she’d be tardy for her morning class, but as the teacher, her tardiness was usually welcomed by her misfit students. She loved those kids and was desperately yearning for her own someday. Like today. Maybe Connor was just the guy to do it. He certainly had the looks and was an impressive drinker. Based on his careless spending last night she could all but be certain he was on track to provide her a comfortable Greenwich manor and the white Range Rover she had lusted after ever since her mom was forced to sell hers when her dad was arrested for fraudulent company spending which led to the bailout of Lehman Brothers. Funny how people don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.
She truly loved her job, but not as much as her well being. The hangover had begun to kick in as she walked into the classroom wearing yesterday’s outfit. Thank goodness she didn’t work in a high school. The sleepover at a friend’s house excuse would not fly with all the hormones and sex knowledge teenagers have acquired through their years. But alas, she wheeled in the television set and let her third graders vote on which movie they would like to be entertained by while she slyly alternated between napping and running to the ladies room to throw up. This wasn’t the first time she had been hungover on the job; in fact, Morgan was so experienced she actually had a first aid kit for recovering alcoholics in her bottom desk drawer—complete with Advil, water, Diet Coke and vodka mini bottles. Just as she reached for one of the clear plastic bottles she was pleasantly surprised by a vibration. Most vibrations to her were pleasant, but this one was caused by a text message alert from her yester-eve’s special friend.
Connor: “Hey nice meeting you last night”
Morgan: It’s him. He loves me back. “Hey! Yeah it was really fun meeting you too. I had a good time.” Is it too soon to tell him my ring size?
Connor: You hear that, Jerry? I showed her a goodtime. “Same here. Definitely a rough morning though” Rough morning might be the understatement of the century. I actually empathize with Jerry’s bowels.
Morgan: That’s an understatement. I’ve thrown up seven times in the last two hours. “Haha yeah, same. Those shots probably weren’t the best idea.”
Connor: Shots? “Which round? Haha. How was the rest of your night?” Because I have no idea how my night ended. Or the middle part. Definitely not the shots. Even the drive to work is fuzzy.
Morgan: “Good point. I think those Patron shots you bought for the group really did me in.” But they also told me that you have money. Therefore, I forgive you.
Connor: I’m too hungover for this. “My bad. So what did you do the rest of the night?”
Morgan: I’m so confused. “Wait, what do you mean?”
30 minutes later…
Connor: Oh my God, that last text is just sinking in. I bought a round of Patron?! She must’ve been really hot. But apparently a ditz. This is a simple question. “You know the time between last night and this morning.”
Morgan: What is going on? “…yeah? What about it? It was really fun. Or at least I thought it was.” He hates me. Oh my God. He hates me. I’m going to die alone.
Connor: I guess she blacked out too. I like your style. “Yeah same here. Until my alarm went off. Do you have to work today?” By alarm I mean by fifth snooze alert. What a rude device.
Morgan: I did have to work today. But I hate working. Impregnate me so I never have to step foot inside a place of employment again. “Yep! I had to be at work super early. I was so surprised my alarm didn’t wake you. It was practically right next to your head.”
Connor: Why would your alarm wake me…Oh. Oh! OH. “Well my head is moving at a slug’s pace today. What’s with the early am? Bold move after happy hour.” In other words, thanks for leaving my bed and brain both empty.
Morgan: “Yeah. I definitely wasn’t planning on going out last night. But my girlfriends insisted on it and I was lucky because my mom was able to watch Tommy.” But I’m so glad I did. What’s his last name again? I want to see what my new monogram will look like.
Connor: Please be an animal. Please be an animal. Please be an animal. “Tommy is a weird name for a cat.”
Morgan: It’s actually a perfectly fine name, you asshole. But whatever. My eggs are drying as we speak. I’ll let it pass. “You’re so funny! Tommy’s going to love you. He’s such a good little baby. My mom loves having him over at her place! Which is nice for when I got out to bars lol.”
Connor: Baby!? Baby what? Human? Fish? “I don’t know…I’m usually bad around young creatures.”
Morgan: What do you mean you’re bad with young creatures? You and I will be having a human young creature in the next year if I have anything to do with it. Shape up. “Oh, you’ll be fine. He is teething though, so you have to be really careful.”
Connor: Why has she not acknowledged the species of ‘Tommy?’ Should I start praying? I should start praying. “Yeah…”
Morgan: I hope you show more interest in our children than you do for my goddamn cat. “But my mom and I went to PetSmart the other day and got him some new toys and that’s helping a lot.”
Connor: “Yeah, thank Jesus for PetSmart. Literally my favorite place. So where do you work?” Note to self: invest money in PetSmart. Also, find money to invest. Can’t believe I was even worried. She’s way to irresponsible to be a mother.
Morgan: I told you this like seventeen times last night. “I’m Kindergarten teacher. Class has been a little rough today. I have parent teacher conferences this afternoon. Not looking forward to that.”
Connor: How can you face the parents of children after our sins of last night? I feel so used. “A shining example for our youth. Hopefully your responsible decision-making rubs off on the kids haha”
Morgan: I can’t tell if he’s judging me or flirting with me. Whatever. “Oh yeah. The parents would have my head if they knew the things we did last night ;)”
An hour later
Morgan: What the hell? So you’re just going to ignore me? Honestly. I hope I’m pregnant. I’d love to steal money from this asshole for the next eighteen years. “Speaking of which…I don’t mean to be awkward, but…we used a condom, right? I mean. I’m sure we did. Just checking to make sure.” …I hope we didn’t.
Connor: Not my style, lady. “I might have to ask the audience. Honestly, it’s kind of fuzzy for me. But I usually play it safe.” Unless you forced it, it didn’t happen. Let’s hope you forced it.
Morgan: “Oh…” I can’t decide if I love you or hate you.
Connor: Oh thank God. “Hey, sorry I had a business lunch. Swung by the house. I think we’re safe. I found a couple wrappers in my room.” I literally tore the sheets off my bed in a desperate search. Of course I would stuff the condom wrappers in my pillowcase. Totally logical.
Morgan: Well. At least I don’t have to worry about getting fat right now. I think I like this guy. We’ll make pretty babies one day. “Good! Wanted to make sure because I’m not on the pill”
Connor: This is the 21st century! How are you not on the pill? I know Rwandans who are on the pill. Maybe not personally, but I know they exist. “Yeah that could’ve ended badly. I guess we did a number on last night. Are you supposed to be texting in class?”
Morgan: The only way that could’ve ended badly is if you’re not as rich as I think you are. “Haha definitely not. But I was feeling a tad hungover, so we’re currently watching Finding Nemo.”
Connor: Man, a dark classroom would really help my headache. Wait… “So that’s why teachers show movies. I think my childhood has been corrupted.”
Morgan: You’re a moron. A cute moron. But a moron, nonetheless. “Oh, yes. It’s a dirty little secret we have. I bet you never thought about your teachers doing the things we did last night either ;)”
Connor: “God bless our youth.” If this girl is teaching the next generation, I’m seriously concerned for the future of this country. But I would totally trade the future of our country for a Big Mac right now.
Morgan: Like…are you going to ask me out or not? “…? Yeah…I guess so.”
Connor: “Happy hour?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.