John tried to decide.
Stay in bed?
He could reach his fags and vodka from here, and if he emptied the bottle, he could piss in it and not have to leave the bed for quite some time.
Brilliant idea, he decided, and he turned over and tucked his hand under the pillow.
And then the bloody phone rang.
John debated the matter between one ring and the next, then lurched out of bed and crawled across the floor to the phone. "Yeah?" he said in the general direction of the handset.
"You're a right bastard," a woman's voice said. Then she hung up.
John stared at the phone for several minutes before realizing that was Chas's wife. "Got me there," he muttered, and he crawled back to bed.
He stuck his head under the pillow and passed out for a restful minute or sixty before the phone rang again. He rolled out of bed backwards and stretched out his arm to reach the receiver. "Hello?" he said.
"Hey," purred another woman's voice. "I'm wearing your pants," she said.
Was she? John looked down. Sure enough, she might be.
He was fairly certain this wasn't Chas's wife again.
"And that's all," she said. "Mm, they don't quite fit, I'd better take them off..."
John raised his eyebrows. "Yes, love?"
Silence. "You're not Ernie," she said, and then there was only the beep of disconnection.
John put the phone back and decided moving again wasn't worth the effort.
So he was in position when the phone rang again. He grabbed it and dropped it on the floor next to him. "Yeah?"
John sat up. "Kit?" He clutched the phone to his ear.
"I rang to see if you're still of the living," she said.
"I am. I think. I am. Are you?"
There was silence. He could beg--he had no shame to spare any more--but it wouldn't make a dent in her.
"I suppose that's all," she said.
"No, love, I--look, I found your--will you come back for a visit? For a drink? A day?"
She didn't answer.
"I think not. But I'm glad you're still kicking," she said, and she hung up.
John dropped the phone back and curled up into a ball on the floor. When the phone rang for the fourth time, he didn't stir.
Then his hair stood on end and he heard a shuffle on the floor. He cracked his eyes open and saw boots.
He looked up and saw Wonder Woman.
"Fuck me ragged," he said.
She wrinkled her nose. "Zatanna gave us your name. We have need of a mage," Wonder Woman said. "You don't answer your phone."
"Didn't seem worth it," he said, a bit stunned by his vantage point.
"Are you capable? You seem indisposed." Her face said more.
John wiped his nose and sat up. Helping out the Justice League meant one hell of a favor later on; he'd work through a broken leg for that one, never mind something as paltry as a broken heart and a hangover. "I'll get me coat."
A hell of a day, this, and it wasn't yet noon.
All comments are welcome.