The burden of the previous evening was huddled in the back of me and Fernweh's minds as we awoke huddled side-by-side under the bridge. This morning felt strange; this was the first morning we awoke without Scrib and Snooze snuggled up with us.
I would have imagined that any sane person would have left Scrib to fend for himself that night. His incoherent, aggressive babbling wasn't doing anything for anyone; his presence could only ravenously swallow any positive energy that arose. I can't imagine why anyone would want to be around something that can communicate nothing but aggression. That being said, I supposed that Snooze's infatuation with Scrib was still blinding her into a state of irrationality. She'd stayed with him, baring the brunt of his blathering belligerence, if only to give him that very same slack-jawed, wide eyed look of utter awe. C'mon, Snooze. He's not Brad Pitt, and you're not a 14 year old girl being thunderstruck by getting a chance to meet him.
Fern and I dragged our corpselike excuses for bodies towards McDonald's to get ourselves some hydration. Once inside, my phone connected to the wi-fi and began spitting soundwaves at me to inform me that someone, somewhere, needed something from me. I checked my text message inbox and saw a note from Scrib. He'd gotten lost the night prior in a blacked out stupor, and wanted to find us. Fernweh stared over his glass of water at me, and I stared back at him.
Fernweh's eyes hadn't been the same since last night - not because they were injured, (at least, not physically) but because the soul that resided behind them had been crippled. Scrib's ego had dealt a nasty blow to Fernweh's own, and Fern's only response to a blow to his self esteem was to become extremely passively pissed.. Ever since Scrib's first explosion in Regina, the rope that tethered our relationships together had become frayed. I think last night had finally snapped that rope. Fernweh said nothing as he rubbed his bruised face and massaged his boken mindstate.
Me, being stupidly forgiving - to a point that it often becomes a problem for me - told Scrib that we were waiting in McDonald's for him.
He arrived ten minutes later. I was hoping for a conversation that would lean towards alcohol being the culprit for last night's situation, and I was hoping for an apology to Fernweh. We got neither. Instead, he acknowledged the evening with nothing but an avalanche of excuses, essentially blaming Fernweh for provoking the anger that "only comes out when someone's being stupid."
It was at this moment that I lost most of my respect for Scrib. The situation itself hadn't been the worst part. The situation had sucked for everyone. People make mistakes when they were drunk, sure, but I knew there was more to this blackout than mere alcohol. We hadn't even drank that much. Rage can have a Herculean effect on a lot individuals. I've witnessed rage cause blackouts by itself, without so much of a drop of alcohol being consumed. There's nothing scarier than a mindless body being piloted by anger.
That being said, apologies are usually issued after the blackouts occur.
Fernweh wouldn't say a word to Scrib, he could only sit back and observe him with a glare so cold that it made even me uncomfortable. I felt a bit shallow in my loyalty to Fernweh by trying to restore the friendship we'd all had. Despite Scrib's ego forbidding him from stepping back half a foot from his bloated self-sense, despite his inability to apologize for wrecking an evening and a potential friendship, despite my newly found lack of respect towards him, it was hard not to get along with him. He was back to his Scribby self, cracking jokes and telling whacky stories, and I figured jiving with him was far more productive than giving him the cold shoulder. He was here, his presence might as well be enjoyed.
Anyway, now that the crew was (somewhat) reunited, we had to go do what we'd decided to do today: GET OUR BUM CHEQUES!
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