The Genius : Noah Franken
WHEN I WOKE UP I had pissed myself. First I felt it in my boxers, then I smelled it, then I saw it – the dirty yellow stain on the white sheet. Stacy was still asleep next to me. She was snoring.
My head hurt something awful. And the taste in my mouth was wretched. I wanted to take an aspirin, I wanted to brush my teeth, so I walked into Stacy’s bathroom and opened the cabinet. I took two pills from the bottle of Advil and swallowed them down with cold water from the faucet. I left it running and squeezed toothpaste onto my finger, and got that taste out of my mouth. I could still hear her snoring.
Man, it was early. I read 7:47 on the clock next to her bed as I walked back into the room. We had met just ten hours ago. She took me home from the bar.
I walked to the side of her bed and quietly opened the drawer of the nightstand, but there wasn’t shit in there besides a hairbrush and some lip gloss. Nothing I could use. I walked out of her room, to the tiny kitchen in the corner of the apartment, and opened drawers until I found a pen and a napkin. On the napkin I scribbled down a quick note.
Then I walked back to where the snoring was coming from. I picked up my pants and shirt from the floor and put them on. Gingerly, I arranged the white sheet on Stacy’s bed so that the piss stain was close to her body. I placed the napkin next to it. It read: That is really disgusting; I can’t believe you did that. Then I excused myself and walked home. I needed to sleep in my own bed.
Noah Franken just finished the undergraduate writing program at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He's been listening to the Velvet Underground a lot lately, reading biographies of Lou Reed, and looking at the artwork of Andy Warhol.