Why is it that when shit happens, it never arrives alone?: Part One

I've had a really shit night.

A really shit night. It was one of those nights destined to be shit. And the shit just kept on coming.

First of all, Helen and I got totally stoned yesterday afternoon. Not giggly stoned -zombie stoned. The kind of stoned where you just sit, because any more effort than sitting is impossible. So we just sat and stared at each other, and the walls, and the carpet, and occasionally, when we could summon up a spark of energy, we sat and stared at the telly.

At some point I managed to drag my eyes to my watch, and I'm like, oh fuck, I've got to be at work in twenty minutes and I'm still wearing my pyjamas.

By the time I'd managed to leave the house looking half-decent I was hideously late and I knew that Fat Bastard Mike was going to take huge amounts of pleasure in giving me a mega-bollocking. I was in for a real Mike Special. Imagine - banging headache, numbed brain, bad hair, raging PMS and the Fear Of Mike in me. I was not a happy unit.

The bus took as long as possible - old ladies paying for their bus tickets with two pence coins, the bus stopping to eject a pissed-up hoodie, and all the other crap that only happens when you're late for something important. I raced to the club, praying for Mike to have come down with a bad case of anything serious enough to prevent him from dragging his lardy arse into work tonight. As usual, my prayers went unanswered. I ran slap bang into Mike as soon as I got through the door. I swear he must have been lurking there, just waiting for me to arrive.

I got the hairy eyeball and a growled, where the fuck have you been? I'm like, sorry Mike, bus took ages, really sorry, won't happen again, I promise. And he's like, smirking, oh yeah? You're always fucking late so don't fucking start throwing bullshit at me. I'm like, sorry Mike, really sorry. I was about to turn to go down the stairs when Mike digs in his pocket and pulls out a baggie. As soon as I saw it my stomach started churning.

And another thing, he goes, this wouldn't happen to be yours would it? No Mike, I go, of course not, never seen it before. He's like, oh yeah? Then what the fuck was it doing hidden behind the Moet on your bar then? I'm like, face all innocent, I don't know Mike, I've never seen it before, I don't do that shit. He laughs his head off, oh yeah? I wasn't fucking born yesterday. Don't fuck with me, Sara, he goes, there's plenty of others ready to take your job, so don't fuck with me. You mess with me one more time and you're out on your arse, alright? I go, yeah Mike, as meek as I can, sorry Mike. And he goes, so what are you fucking waiting for? Fuck off downstairs and get to fucking work! So I fucked off downstairs to get to fucking work. And that's when it all really started going wrong.

That's part one. Part two comes later.