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Linda wished she could say she had woken up peacefully that morning. She wished she had been able to make herself a cup of tea and eat a blueberry scone from her favorite bakery. She would have settled for waking up with a crick in her neck and a lukewarm croissant in favor of what she was witnessing.
Linda, instead, woke up to a woman wearing the most hideous hot pink ball gown that looked as though it had been dropped in a woodchipper. The hem of the dress was completely gone and the beading on the bodice fell off with the slightest movement.
The redhead in the dress sat at the foot of her bed, whispering loudly to her phone, “–pick me up, please. I have no clue where I am and I’m not sure if the writing on my arm is a tattoo or pen.”
Linda looked at the woman's left arm, struggling to read the writing before realizing it was definitely not in a language she knew. She sincerely hoped it was just pen. The woman rubbed absently at the markings as she looked nervously at her phone.
Linda wondered if it would be wrong of her to pretend to sleep. It was 7 AM and she doesn't know if she has the ability to deal with whatever shitshow was happening. Suddenly, the woman looked at her.
“Oh shit,” she said, her eyes going wide, “Fuck, you're awake.”
Linda wondered if she could believably fake a heart attack. It would solve all her problems at the moment; the woman would leave and sure, Linda may have to go to the hospital, but then she could guilt Gary into buying her a fancy dinner.
Then the woman started to cry. Linda wondered if this was some kind of divine punishment for stealing Gerald’s gum and telling him that Gary did it.
“Are you okay?” She asked, almost hoping that the woman would leave to cry somewhere else.
Instead the woman sobbed harder. The bed shook slightly and the woman's makeup started running. Perhaps if Linda just ignored her, she could just pretend that none of this was happening.
“My boyfriend broke up with me,” the woman said, her sobs subsiding, “And then he kissed my best friend!”
“That sucks,” Linda said, unsure of what she could tell her.
The woman began to sob again, “I caught them cheating in my apartment! We were supposed to go to my birthday party and I caught them in my bed!”
Linda wanted to tell this woman to fuck off and let her sleep, but she also empathized. Mostly, she was cursing the idiot who cheated on this woman. not only was he making this girl cry, but he somehow found a way to screw up Linda’s morning. Linda did feel bad for this woman, but she also felt bad for herself.
“I’m so sorry. He sounds shitty,” Linda said, “But why is your dress so torn?”
The woman looked down as if she suddenly realized what she was wearing. Her eyebrows furrowed.
“This isn't my dress,” she said slowly, sounding just as confused as Linda felt.
Linda just blinked. Hatchetfield was full of weirdos, but somehow Linda seemed to attract them all.
“How did you get here?” Linda asked.
“I’m not sure. All I remember is going to a bar and then walking in the park and–” the woman stopped abruptly and gasped.
She reached into her pocket to pull something out. Linda hoped that whoever was on the phone had come to pick her up or some explanation for whatever was happening.
But the universe decided that Linda needed to repent for whatever sins she had committed because the woman pulled a squirrel from her pocket.
“I almost forgot about you!” She exclaimed.
At this point, Linda wouldn't even have to fake her heart attack. The woman carefully set the squirrel down on the bed and began to pet it.
The woman turned to look at Linda, “Can I get some water for him? He had a rough night.”
Linda could feel the tears forming in her eyes, “Sure.”
The woman beamed at her and gingerly picked the squirrel back up. Linda hated to admit that her smile almost made this fever dream worth experiencing.
She put her slippers on and walked to the kitchen, hoping the woman or the squirrel wouldn't get lost in her house.
When she got to the kitchen, she almost froze at how beautiful the woman looked with sunlight on her face. She shook her head slightly; she was clearly being infected by the madness this woman brought with her.
“So what's your name?” Linda asked.
“Oh, I’m Becky! This is Norbert,” Becky replied, with a smile.
“I’m Linda,” she said, with a slight smile of her own.
“Thanks for being so kind,” Becky said, “Last night felt like the worst night of my life.”
“I’m sorry,” Linda replied, “He sounds like an asshole.”
Becky giggled, “Yeah, he kind of was.”
Linda grinned at her. She was glad she hadn't faked a heart attack. Becky seemed like a chaotic mess, but Linda found it a little endearing.
“You never finished telling me how you got into my house,” Linda said.
“Oh, well I–” Becky was cut off by her phone ringing. “Sorry, it's my friend.”
Becky answered the call and Linda could hear what sounded like two people arguing. Linda vaguely recognized the voices, but she couldn't place where she heard them.
“–my constitutional right to call Becky a whore for waking up next to a random person, Paul,” the first voice said.
The next voice, that Linda assumed belonged to Paul, responded, “She's going through a hard time! That cancels out all name-calling. It's the rules!”
“I made up the rules!” the first voice yelled, “Anyway, Becky get your ass in the car or I am going to drag you out. I’m hungry and Bill is making breakfast burritos.”
“Alright, I’m going,” Becky responded, “Sorry, Linda! I have to go.”
Linda opened her mouth to ask Becky for her phone number, but Becky bolted out the door. She sighed. She wondered if she would ever see Becky again. Hopefully, in a situation where neither of them were in ugly ball gowns or crying over shitty boyfriends or with squirrels. Linda froze. The squirrel.
She looked over to the counter, hoping Becky had shoved it in her pocket again.
But, like all things this morning, the squirrel sat there and stared at Linda. It seemed amused at Linda’s suffering.
She moved closer, hoping she could get it out of her house. The squirrel stared at her as if daring her to come closer. Fucking Norbert.
Linda took back anything nice she said about Becky. She should have faked a heart attack when she had a chance.
Four days later, she had finally gotten rid of the squirrel. She was ashamed to admit that the squirrel had outsmarted all of her attempts until she brought her neighbor's cat to chase it off.
She went outside to grab her mail and noticed an envelope on her porch. Her name was written in a fancy cursive with a small heart drawn next to it.
Inside the envelope was an index card with a phone number and “Sorry for forgetting the squirrel!” signed with Becky’s name.
Linda grinned. She was still faking a heart attack next time, but for now she would text Becky.