Quatre Winner\'s Diary

May: Baseball and Alphabets

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Wednesday, May 21st

10:12 am

Just got up, called in sick. Hope I didn\'t sound to
drunk on the phone, because I still am. Hope I have
something in the cupboard to drink.

10:15 am

Have a whole cupboard full of hard alcohol! I love
parties. There\'s some Vodka. Cosmopolitans for
breakfast. Yeah!

12:25 pm

I\'m not sure this drinking all day thing is such a
good idea. My tummy\'s starting to hurt. I think I
might be sick. I lost track of how many I\'ve had, but
the mixer is gone. I had orange juice though; tequila
and triple sec too. The first screwdriver seemed like
a good idea, but the second might have been a little
much. Ugh. Perhaps a little TV is what I need.

12:45 pm

Just tuned TV off . Only made me sicker. All the
news channels want to talk about is the Inquirer
article. Seems they have evidence. Someone went
dumpster diving for it. Something about a receipt for
some books. I have books. Lots of them.

Oh, I forgot. I\'m supposed to be reading about those
books about sex.

Oh shit…those must be the ones they’re talking about.
Oops.

12:50 pm

Put the books down. The letters wouldn\'t stop moving.

I think I might need something to eat, but food is so
much work. I\'ll just have another drink instead.
Cosmos have cranberry juice; that\'s nutritional.

1:16 pm

The fucking phone keeps ringing. Has been all
morning. I don\'t want to talk. Doesn\'t it know that?
I told it I didn\'t want to talk, so why does it keep
ringing?

Maybe it\'s the press trying to get to me. I should
lock the door and windows so they can\'t get in. I
can\'t talk to them. They don\'t like me.

I wonder if I can still fit under my bed. They can\'t
find me there.

1:22 pm

Still fit! Yeah. I can stay here for a while. Goody
for me.

1:23 pm

But the Vodka is out there and I\'m in here.

1:24 pm

Still safer under here than out there.

1:25 pm

Is that even the time? I can\'t tell. Well fuck it
all anyway.

1:34 pm

I have a watch on. Still not sure if that last one
was at the right time. Don’t fucking care anyway.

2:47 pm

I fell asleep. Not there\'s a lovely drool puddle on
the floor. Someone\'s knocking on the door. I think
that\'s what woke me up. If it\'s the press, I want
them to go away. If it\'s my sisters, I really want
them to go away. If it\'s not, they can stay, but if
they want in, they\'d better have a key, ‘cause I\'m not
moving.

2:50 pm

They got in and are moving around the apartment. I
hope it\'s not robbers. Really hope that it\'s not
robbers. I hope they just take what they want and
don\'t kill me. I\'m not ready to die. I\'m still a
virgin. And I haven\'t told Trowa I love him, because
I do. I really do. I think.

2:52 pm

Okay, maybe I don’t love him, but I care about him a
lot. I\'d say I like him a lot, but that\'s juvenile.
I could be in love with him, maybe.

I\'m still drunk and rambling, and there\'s still
someone in my apartment. At least there\'s only one
set of footsteps; I can hear two voices. Maybe it\'s a
psycho with multiple personalities or something who’s
come to kill me. I really don\'t want to die a virgin.


3:45 pm

Oh, damn, I\'m starting to sober up again and I have a
hangover forming. I don\'t like it much. My head
hurts and I\'m feeling sick to my stomach. Of course
the stomachache could be from all the water Duo\'s
making me drink.

That\'s who was in the apartment: Duo and Trowa. I
don\'t think they liked what they found much. Duo\'s
cleaning, from his wheelchair. It\'s funny to watch,
but I can\'t laugh. He glares at me when I do.

Trowa\'s making me food. It wouldn\'t have been such an
importansue sue except they decided to induce vomiting
and found out that I only had liquid in my stomach. I
think I puked last night, I can\'t remember. I can\'t
remember if I ate last night. Oops.

I wonder if I can get another Cosmo for lunch. I
don\'t really want to be sober.

I\'m not going to ask. It doesn\'t seem like a really
good idea. They\'re both kind of grumpy.

7:15 pm

Okay, today was definitely not my shiniest moment; at
best it could be a dull nickel plate. When Trowa
finally found me hiding under my bed, he had to pull
me out. After I was finally fully sober again, which
took a few hours and a lot of carbs, Duo said it
looked like someone dragging a cat out from under
something. I put up a good fight.

I shouldn\'t be proud of that, since it was my
boyfriend I was fighting, but I was drunk. No one can
blame me for inebriation. My life is being flushed
down the garbage disposal and all in the public eye.
My sisters are going to roast my carcass on a spit and
serve it with couscous at a fancy dinner party. And
I\'m going to have to resort to living off my trust
fund, not something I\'m entirely fond of doing.

After they extricated me from my hiding spot, Trowa
carried me to the bathroom and they made me throw up.
Something about this struck me as funny, but I\'m not
sure now what it was. I kept laughing and trying to
grope Trowa. I managed to grab his butt once, which
Duo thought was hilarious. That\'s about when he
disappeared.

After Trowa was certain I didn\'t have anymore alcohol
in me, the rehydrating started. I think I drank ten
glasses of water, which means I have to pee a lot. I
only drank one after the puking, then I got a bath,
because I couldn\'t stap. Ip. It\'s really embarrassing
when your boyfriend, who’s never seen you naked, has
to hold your head so you won\'t accidentally drown
yourself. I really was that drunk. And totally
d; nd; not that I was wearing much to start . I . I
think I was only in boxer shorts. It took too much
energy to get dressed.

So now Trowa\'s seen me entirely naked, from head to
toe and at my absolute worst, so stinking drunk I
couldn\'t think straight.

Not that I\'m straight. I\'m gay. And the National
Inquirer is having a field day telling the whole world
that.

I\'m so screwed.

The worst part of all this is, Trowa\'s still here. In
my apartment. Duo went home and took all those awful
papers with him. He kept laughing at the thought of
me and him as lovers. I don\'t understand what\'s so
repugnant about the idea of me and him…well that kiss
wasn\'t the greatest…okay it sucked royal ostrich eggs.
Kissing Trowa is much better.

Okay, Duo\'s right, d mad make a terrible couple. It\'d
be the most platonic sexual relationship on the
planet, and that includes the tons of gay men stuck in
show marriages. It\'d be sickeningly sterile. But he
doesn\'t have to laugh about it.

At least laughing hurt him a little. I can gather
some comfort from that.

And Trowa\'s seen me naked.

I don\'t think I\'d be dwelling on this fact with such
dread if he hadn\'t been so…clinical about the whole
experience. It\'s like he didn\'t even look down there
or want to. He doesn\'t find me sexually attractive.
He thinks I\'m a pathetic virgin drunkard who needs to
be babysat. I can\'t be on my own. He\'s probably
dropping me hint about this too, more than the
anceance and the cut off sexual encounter. I\'m just
not looking close enough. I bet he\'s trying to tell
me that he wants to break up because I\'m that sorry of
an excuse for a human being.

Take right now, for example. He\'s looking at me like
he wants to throw me out the window. Or maybe it\'s
the book. I\'ve been writing in it for a while,
although most of this looks like chicken scratching.
I should never write anything drunk. It\'s illegible.


I think I should stop though, my hand\'s starting to
cramp a little.