Paying the Piper (Rachelle)

        I awaken to the taste of the Mongolian army tramping barefoot through my mouth, a boa constrictor around my head and the cast from My Six Hundred Pound Life jumping on my stomach.

         Worse yet, the oversized brass clock next to my bed reads “10 a.m.,” thus turning me, Miss Four-Hour-A-Night-Sleeper, officially into Rip VanWinkle. What the hell was in that wine? I think a moment then remember the answer: my glass…for at least 900 helpings.

         I labor to a sitting position then immediately gasp and surpass all land records with my ten-yard sprint to the resplendent attached bathroom. I defile it in record time.

         Great start to the work week, I think – one that has the potential to change Gretchen’s and my life forever. If we can just incorporate our love for writing and some fun-filled turns of phrases about our Amish escapade into a story with enough crackle to stoke Diane Lennon’s interest, we can potentially broker a deal with Random House. This is every writer’s dream. But it’s not going to happen if we don’t get our act together and fast!

         I afford myself the luxury of dredging my murky memory bank for the dregs of last night’s activities. The last image I have is of Gretchen dictating an announcement for me to type and post on FanStory so we can apprise our fellow members of our adventure and impending absence.

         I rub my temples in agony then open the door of my gorgeous bedroom. A miasma of coffee vapors envelopes me and catapults me back toward the bathroom to defile it once again.

         When I finally make my way to the first floor, I see Gretchen on the deck in a dark hoodie and sunglasses as she nurses a cup of joe. I open the sliding glass door and shuffle out to join her.

         Immediately, she puts a finger to her lips and whispers, “Shhh. No. Talking.” There is a pathetic mewl to her phlegm-riddled voice. I watch as she drops her head into the crook of her elbow, the arm of which is draped listlessly across the table.

         I look to the horizon to try to find solace in the sand and water that will be our back yard for the next six days. But the undulating waves and the incessant sound of their rhythmic slapping against the shore make my musician’s ears ache and my stomach lurch. I race back inside and defile the gilded half-bath just off the lavish kitchen. Then I repeat this activity once I spot Banana Hammock Guy next door, this time decked out in a “Do Me” red shade of yesterday’s same ensemble. Again, he is taking a selfie. Who could he possibly have as his followers?

                               ***********************************

         It takes until nearly 4 p.m. for Gretchen and me to recalibrate enough to regain our sea legs. Even then, we are both pasty and bedraggled as we open our laptops and endeavor to begin our first chapter. First, though, we agree to read through some of the responses to our previous evening’s post on FanStory.

MRS. KT (six stars): Hello, Gretchen and Rachelle! I have a hunch you will need this healing recipe today: Amaretto Sours. That’s right; the proverbial hair-of-the-dog! Get right on that, and please keep us in the loop with your progress.

Onward!

CECILIA HEISKARY (two stars): Wow! There’s more mistakes in this one post then I’ve made in all the times you’ve corrected all of mine put together, Rachelle. What gives?

T.B. BOTTS (six stars): Okay, easy does it now, gals; no going into the ocean for a midnight swim! Keep yourselves safe so we can enjoy your story on here!

GYPSY BLUE ROSE (five stars): Dearest Gretchen and Rachelle:

                                                          With the morning light

                                                      Will come depth and certainty

                                                          Of treasures untold

JIM WILE (six stars): Oh dear, Rachelle and Gretchen. I believe you have unintentionally written some FS gold with this post! Thanks for letting us all know you’re okay, though it seems like maybe you’re way more than just “okay.” Good luck with the book…and feeling good enough in the morning to write it!

TERRY BROXSON (five stars): Uh-oh, you two! Do I sense bourbon was involved in the making of this post? If so - and I’m pretty sure I’m right – I sure hope you’re drinking it out of Waterford crystal like I always do! Definitely enhances the taste!

BEGIN AGAIN (five stars): Girls, Girls, Girls! And you didn’t invite me along???

DOLLY’S POEMS (six stars): Looks like you two are taking to beach life beautifully. Not sure how much writing you’ll be able to do if you keep this behavior up, but at least you’ll be having lots of fun. X x x

MICHELE HARBER (three stars): Rachelle, I have PM’ed you a flawlessly edited copy of your post. You’re welcome.

JUDIVERSE (six stars): HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You two are hilarious! Enjoy!

MRS. ANNA HOWARD (6 stars): What Judi said…and raise a glass for me!

TOM HOROZNY (five stars): I’m not sure what it all means, but if you two write it, it must be good. Slkqpoeglaoijgeldlwizoxslwuxibeizxkehne

PAM LONSDALE (five stars): WHOA! You two are off the rails. Good luck trying to ever get back down to business!

MICHAEL LUDWINDER (six stars): Rachelle and Gretchen, you are the two funniest writers on this site. I always look forward to everything you post. This was fantastic.

ROY OWEN (five stars): My daughters used to love the beach when they were in elementary school. They gave concerts with their little recorders for everyone who was there to enjoy while sunning themselves. Bless you both.

SANDRA STONER MITCHELL (six stars): This should be quite the collaboration…once you actually get down to it, that is. Feel well soon! Love you both! X o x o

POME LOVER (six stars): You are both wild and crazy! Looking forward to all the updates.

HARRY CRAFT (five stars): Well, this was an exciting article and there was no mispelings or bad grammer or any incurrect punctuality marks. Good job even though you didn’t sight any sources. That’s very importent, you know. Its why I took off a pointe from your ratting.

NOMI (six stars): Girls!! PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESS IMMEDIATELY!!! xoxox

         “I think we needed this,” says Gretchen, as a smirk raises one side of her cracked and pasty lips.

         “Very much so,” I respond, finally at one again with my sense of humor.

         But just as we begin to write, the doorbell rings.

         Gretchen looks toward the front porch from her perch on the stool in the kitchen and gasps. “OMIGAWD! It’s Banana Hammock Guy!” Then her eyes gape even more as she says, “And what the heck! He’s with what’s got to be that guy you sat next to on the plane! What was his name again? Whomp Mahbooty?”