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Wow!  Very nice.

(‘mouse wonders if anyone’s up to the challenge of pyvozaichuk without using periods…)

damn.  typo. rebel, I meant. (Secretly, I know how to spell… well, mostly).

I lathered my body with cinnamon-orange body wash, the smell delighting my senses (even though my sister says it makes my bathroom smell like sweet pickled eggs) and thought of the day that had been.  It’d started off with the presentation of a new innovative drug for people with passive-aggressive disorders, currently in the preliminary stages of development which seemed to go reasonably well but then our hosts invited us to a Karoke bar called “Bobs” and it all seemed to go down hill from there. 

They demanded that I get up and sing, blushing, I replied, “Oh, I just couldn’t - no one wants to hear me sing” but they wouldn’t listen and I was shoved forward to the stage.  They put a chair on the stage, which, I thought, naively was for sitting on, but apparently I was meant to dance, using the chair as a prop, as I sang.  Once again, I tried politely declining, “Thank you, but I won’t make any attempt to dance, I have zero coordination” and once again our hosts failed to hear the pleading in my voice.  That - or they ignored it.  Singing, was not my strong point but I had on a short skirt and while the crowd booed my singing they started calling for me to get up on the chair and dance… who the hell did they think I was? Inside my head, I was thinking, “That chair looks wobbly and dangerous and I certainly wouldn’t try balancing on it with this short skirt on in case I fell off” - but under the pressure of the crowds pleas, I danced for them anyway.  And fell off.  Thank goodness I was wearing nickers. I went back to the table.  The hosts eyeing me a little sleazily and my colleages unable to meet my eye.  I wanted out of there.  A tray of shooters appeared on the table - some blueish green concotion that reminded me of a night out with friends in my youth that ended up being referred to as the ‘Green Bile of Death Night’.  I said, “Please take the shooters back, let’s have water” but my hosts just laughed and shoved a shooter across the table at me.  I remained firm (still suffering from the embarrassment of falling off the chair), “Nope, no more drinks for me, I’ve reached my limit” (and I had, but it wasn’t the drinks).

My college by this time, was extremely drunk and put his hand on my knee and whispered in my ear.  I swallowed my initial revulsion, composed my face and said politely, Thanks, but I don’t want to sleep with you, his hand gripped my knee a little more firmly.  Slightly more hysterical now, I tried to get him to back off with “Sorry, but you’re not really my type” and when that failed, I forced his hand away and said, in very sickly sweet tones, “I’m not interested in fighting you and look, it would be great to have a f**k but I hardly know you and we will only feel really embarrassed and awkward in the morning”.  He finally got the message. 

I tried chatting to one of my other colleagues, who’d brought his girl friend along, he seemed distracted as she was at the bar and he seemed to take issue with another patron standing a few metres away, That guy is looking at my girlfriend but I am sure its just because he knows her or something.  It seemed the nice guy I worked with each day had turned into paranoid freak so I excused myself to the group, apologising as I went, “I must be going home now as I have work in the morning - which surprisingly, they seemed to accept. 

I started walking in the general direction of home and after 15 minutes or so the cold night air hit me, and I felt a little ill.  Seeing a group of women, I approached and asked, “Where is the nearest toilet? I refuse to vomit in the street?” - they looked at me and seemed about to answer when a freaky looking dude, obviously suffing from tourettes started shouting out seemingly random words, “Proliferation!, Astronaught! Specificity!, Transubstantiate! Scrine!”.  I I shrugged and headed for the garden at the edge of the pavement.  After vomiting, I felt a little weak and was going to have a quick nap but the ground was uneven and with my last scrap of sense I decided, ‘I must get to my bed as I could never have a really good sleep in that hedge’.  I know this is a little soft of me and I have friends that will sleep just about anywhere but I don’t have their British constitution.  It was probably just as well too, as having only taken a few steps, I came face to face with a Police Officer.  “Good evening officer, isn’t it lovely out tonight?” I greeted him as I hailed a cab that would deliver me home.

What a night! ‘It’s such a relief to be home’, I thought as I stepped out of the shower wrapping myself in a pink towel.

Testing

BTW, the words and phrases in italics are the words and phrases that I had to use in my story as part of the challenge.