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A Night Out

"Wake up! C'mon, let's go. Need to be movin' on."

"What? Oh, damn!"

"Yea, I'm guessing that bright sunlight smarts, don't it. Get on your feet, pal. I don't want to be bothered with running you in, but I can't just leave you here either."

"Um, yea. Where...?"

"Man, that must have been some night. Been a lot of years since I pulled one of those. Heard the Red Horse will do that to you. Crazy place."

"The Red Horse? Yea, that sounds familiar. How did you...?"

"Stamp is right there on the back of your hand, son. Kind of hard to miss."

"Oh, yea. So it is. Where am I?"

"Seventeenth Street, between Downing and West Auburn. Lucky you picked this stairwell too. This place is abandoned. If you had tried to sleep it off one over from here that little oriental woman would have beat the hell out of you with her broom."

"No, would not have wanted that. Oh, boy."

"Steady there, hold on to the wall. Not sure how you got down here without killing yourself. Maybe you do need a few hours in the drunk tank."

"No, no, I'm good. Just need a cab and a shower. Maybe some coffee."

"HAHA, I'll bet; a few aspirin, too. All right, pal. You seem to be harmless, head on home. Just remember that Atlanta's finest let you off when the FOP collection guy comes around."

"Atlanta?"

Story by:

Mark Windham

submitted at 5:50pm

2 February 2012

Mark Windham's web:

www.awakenedwords.wordpress.com