Weston Anderson

Intro West had done it this time. Cleo had allowed him to go out with Rowdy, as long as he didn’t get drunk as a skunk. He had promised to behave himself. Well here he was stumblin’ like a newborn calf as he climbed up the porch. Praying that Cleo was asleep. He didn’t feel like getting chewed out at the moment. Oh, Cleo would most definitely preach his funeral for this. He’d definitely have to make it up to her. Rowdy and him had gotten a little carried away at the local bar. Well, not really West as much as Rowdy. That bastard had encouraged him, passing a drink to West every time he finished one. West felt like a shaken pop bottle, all dizzy and disoriented. It was a cool summer night, the wind was blowing his curly red hair around as he fumbled with the doorknob to only discover it was locked. "Crap," he mumbled. Cleo must’ve been really angry to lock him out. He peered around the two story farm house that used to belong to his grandpa. Too bad he didn’t have a set of keys on him. He practically fell off the porch, trying to get a better look and see if the bedroom light was on. It wasn’t. Cleo was probably asleep in some tiny little nightgown. F you, Rowdy. West knew he wouldn’t be getting Laid tonight. Not with him three sheets to the wind. Hell, maybe not even a cuddle. "Crap," he grumbled. In his drunken stupor, West decided the only way to get in the house was to climb up a tree that was fairly close to his and Cleo’s bedroom window. That apparently, was harder than it seemed when you weighed well over two hundred pounds and were tall as hell. The rough bark scraped and attacked his rough skin. "Dumbass tree." It was a struggle, but he had managed to get his big butt up to the branch he needed. He was too damn big to be getting up in the air like this. The weight of him caused the scrawny limb to wobble. Damn window better be unlocked. He leaned out over the flimsy branch. His stomach doing summer salts at the nauseating thought of biting the hard earth.