(I have to write a little something here because I feel that some of you are not heeding the warnings in the authors note section. The comments you are leaving are so funny and so appreciated, BUT if you are spending time reading and writing here, whos working on YOUR story?? And thats what its all about – you BnT writers need to get back to work to keep the rest of us addicts in a vegetative state of euphoria. I am in a BnT Free Zone so I can write silly stuff while I wait around for YOU to get back to the keyboard. Ill be looking for your posts shortly. Thank You . . . )



The next morning I was rudely awakened by the sound of my phone, a sound reminiscent of a 10 alarm fire alert – so loud it reverberated in my head and chest. Who in their right mind would call be before 1:00 pm.

I reached for the receiver of the portable cordless and promptly dropped it as I sat up swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Bending at the waist and trying not to fall off the edge of the bed, I grabbed the Bell South and fought the urge to purge as a wave of nausea washed over me.

I noticed that I was still wearing my work uniform from the day before and had a note pinned to the front left breast pocket. Unable to read it upside down and once again feeling the need to heave, I ripped off the note, written on a bar napkin, and tossed it on the nightstand. For whatever reason it had a website address on it.

Feeling the saliva in my mouth creating a never-ending river of bile, I took the phone and headed to the bathroom taking a seat on the floor in front of the throne. I raised my right arm and sniffed under my armpit disgusted at the odor there and the smoke-drenched aroma of my hair and clothes.

Eyes closed and one arm wrapped around my American Standard, I answered the phone,

This better be good , *****, I said without even so much as a hello.

My, my, my Miss Cheerie Pants. Let me guess, said the voice on the other side of the line. Youre still in your clothes from last night, lying on the floor somewhere and about 3 seconds away from puking up the tequila treats from Sneaky Petes Patio Bar and Grill we enjoyed last night.

Good morning, Mighty Mouth, I mumbled. you definitely missed your calling, girl. You could be the next Miss Cleo with your own 1-800 psychic line. Like it would take a genius to figure out what condition my condition is in .

My sarcasm not lost on him and I pictured him in a pair of pink striped Richard Simmons shorts and white tank wearing a turban, smoking some weed, and talking with the accent of the islands. Ah, my little Jamaican queen..

Do you really have to wonder why you are alone, never waking up with that special someone by your side? he asked almost sounding cruel. And last time I looked, 1:00 pm is NOT morning and its certainly NOT good on your end now is it sweetie?

Honey, I do love you but would you mind terribly if I called you right back,
I implored. I really need to do this. I was beginning to do a little dry heaving which I have no doubt he could hear through the phone line. By the way, did we have food while we drank last night? I dont want to be surprised by the upcoming stomach contents.

Fine, Shorts replied more than a little annoyed at my lack of intestinal fortitude. Do what you have to do and get back to me in 30 minutes or I will be showing up on your door step with a very healthy lunch of liver and onions. I got good news about the trip and we need to talk.

Deal. I dropped the phone on the tile beside me then dropped my head in the porcelain bowl in front of me. ~~WHAT TRIP ~~ I thought to myself as I thanked god we didnt have anything to eat at the bar while we drank.

Twenty minutes later I was showered , dressed, 4-asprined up and drinking a gallon of water. My body ached all over as it usually did after a night of fitful sleeping – just a persistent side effect of the accident

Alcohol has been my drug of choice for the past 10 years, not wanting to become addicted to prescription painkillers. How the irony of that decision escaped me is a mystery I choose not to solve. Besides, if I wanted to get laid, it was easier for her to buy me a drink than give me a Demerol.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and leaned in to get a closer look at the scar. It started just above the middle of my right eyebrow and circled, in a crescent-shape arc around my eye to the middle of my cheek. Even after 10 years it had a pinkish hue and was mushy to the touch – kind of like a welt. The plastic surgeon said that one more operation would practically eliminate it but I liked it. It gave me the look of a season veteran – it gave me the character I lacked – it was a great conversation starter. Gave me the opportunity to lie endlessly about how it happened. And I did.

I turned my head side to side as my eyes never left the mark. The same ritual every morning (or afternoon depending on the time I got up!) ending with the same questions each time . . ~~~ Why cant I remember ANYTHING about the accident? ~~~ ~~~~Why did I survive~~~~?. ~~~Why do I even care after all these years?~~~Like knowing something would have changed the outcome~~~~~~

Even though it happened so fast I didnt realize it happened, witnesses said they saw me raise my right arm to protect myself from the impact. That reaction, that automatic reflex may have saved my sight, but it cost me my arm. Well, not my whole arm, just my right forearm – three inches below my elbow is where the amputation was performed.

Flying metal of some kind ripped through the passenger side of the car window where I was seated when Brown ran the light and t-boned the car in which I was riding. The projectile sliced my arm and my face and his delivery truck overturned our car – so I was told.

I was wearing a seat belt but still got some bones crushed on my right side and a ton of matching scars down my back- but that was a long time ago. All the therapy, physical and mental, have made me the person I am today Im not bitter or angry with anyone or with God or anything like that. Sometimes things just happen and sometimes it takes a lifetime to figure out why.

My forearm was not the only thing lost in the accident that day. My lover of five years was killed instantly – a blessing I suppose. Funny, ten years later and her family, especially her mother, still calls me, worries about me she says. I need to move on with my life she says. I have moved on with living , I tell her, just not with loving, which I am sure she has figured out.


I hate the fact that I am now considered handicapped because I am still quite capable of taking care of myself. The hardest part was adjusting to being left-handed since I was a natural righty all my life.

The settlement helped me turn my two bedroom one bath 1100 sq ft home into a two bedroom two bath 2100 sq ft with a two car garage. I had to get a new car since I couldnt drive the Jeep with its stick shift and I bought a small, 4-person 22 Winnebago to see the country in. I am still working, just not at my old job and am still looking around for something more rewarding than public service. I am just as lost as I was before the accident – at least now I had an excuse for my behavior. I still find it so disconcerting how lonesome I feel sometimes in a crowd.

The two positives resulting from the accident were 1) more time to search for the meaning of life which has lead me to volunteering at several different organizations and 2) women, mostly the oddball type, find the scar and the missing link attractive in a sexually weird way. I dont mind being pitied as long as it gets met off be the end of the evening.

*****, I said realizing the time. I need to call Shorts.

I found my way back to the bed, sat with my back against the headboard, grabbed the phone and gave my little friend a call. As his number rang on the other side, I glanced at the nightstand near the bed and found the napkin with the website address on it.

I was trying to remember why I would have that address certain that it had something to do with whatever conversation Shorts and I had last night and Sneaky Petes. Trouble was, last night was not in my memory.

I was still playing with the napkin when he answered. Unlike me, he had caller ID and knew who it was immediately. Before he even said HI. he was filling in me in on the trip.

Your idea was so tight girl that I just took it and ran with it this morning, he started. And he didnt stop to let me say anything.

(~~~Tight??~~~~~ MY idea??~~~~Ran where?~~~~)

Ive already talked with my bosses and there is no problem with me taking three months off and I know my old man wont have any qualms about letting you go since youll be with me.

(~~~THREE months?~~~~~What does he know about his dad and me?~~~)

Still couldnt get a word or phrase or anything into this conversation.

I went to the auto club and they are whipping up one of those Trip Tik things – be ready in a week. Im thinking we could take the Mini Winni like you suggested and its big enough that you wouldnt mind me bringing Smack.

(~~~Bring Smack? I dont think so~~~)

Ive made some calls and a friend of a friend of a friend can get us booked for the casting call in Vancouver. Well work out everything else along the way.
Before he could start another sentence, I put a stop to the planning since I still didnt know what we were planning.

HEY HEY HEY. I had to yell to get his attention because he was talking fast and breathing hard. Hold up there, Tiny Dancer, you need to start from the beginning and tell me EXACTLY WHAT THE ***** YOURE TALKING ABOUT?

WHAT TRIP ??? . . .


TBC