Pierre awoke with the glorious feeling of being more dead than alive. Dry throat, strong headache, rolling waves of pain coming from his stomach and clothes covered in dubious stains of differents liquids. Putting some strenght in his modest abdominal muscles, he successfully passed from lying like a corpse on his bed to a sitting position.
Looking at his room, clean if you forgot the half empty rum bottle that visibly leaked on the carpet, he remembered the barathon of yesterday.
Together with 2 coworkers, Allan and Rémi, they raided the 11 th borough in Paris downtown.
Raided was the word. Go as quick as you can in a bar, drink as much as you can in a limited time before switching to the next one. A bit barbaric but it make wonder to forget a tedious day of work.
Particularly when you work in retails. At the end of the year. In one of the most touristic town of the world.
Struggling to lift himself up, Pierre reached for the wall of the room to support his dehydrated body before starting to go to the bathroom. The only other room of his nice all-in-one apartment, which holds his salvation : a shower.
After an hour long revitalizing shower, the back to human standard man emerged from his bathroom with new clothes and cleaned the mess he made yesterday when going to bed. Getting on a knee, he take the bottle from his soon to be ex carpet judging by the smell.
« Uh, a bottle of Diplomatico, way too sweet for a last drink. And way too sticky for my carpet ... »
mumbled the man with the bottle in hand. Putting it on his only table, he rolled the carpet and put some shoes for what he hoped would be his only outside trip of the day.
After a quick trip to the trash with the only victim from yesterday, a stop by the supermarket for some foods, beers and others daily necessities for a week, Pierre finally get to the second main point of the day : lunch.
Looking at his kitchen corner for a moment, he starts thinking about what to cook. Before he could start anything the phone on his bed started ringing with the familiar Daft punk remix of the early 90's.
Looking at the number he took the phone as quick as possible
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« Hey sista, happy new year and century ! »
he said with a cheerful voice
« Happy new year and century little brother ! How come I couldn't get to you last night ? Mom tried too but to no avail. »
The calm voice of his sister Allia had always helped him focus. Allia the ever industrious. Even now it was a soothing sound for his tired mind. Smiling while talking he answered.
« Yeah I was out with my coworkers to pillage some bar in the 11 th. Even lost my carpet to a Rum bottle. Sad stuff I tell you … So how is the start of the 22 th century for you ? »
« Pretty fun, the kids are with mom so Rico and I had a nice time with our friends yesterday night. He is still sleeping, courtesy of the many bottles he wrestled with. I was just checking on you, don't forget to call mom and throw your carpet out or your whole flat will stink. See you soon, love you. »
« Love you too sister, say hello to Rico for me. If he ever survives his hangover hahahaha »
Putting back his phone on his bed, he looked at the date on his alarmclock : Friday 1 January 2100, 3pm
Looking at the mirror near his bed he could see the same face he ever had : dark brown short hair, bushy eyebrow, long eyelashes almost feminine, slightly almond shaped eyes with earth brown pupils, a short trimmed full beard. All of that at the height of 1m92 (6feet3) with a slim frame. Almost skinny if it wasn't for the muscles gained by taking care of the stock at work.
« Yeah lifting boxes full of shoes and clothes everyday do help. The unhealthy trinity of cigarettes, alcohol and overwork to control weight still isn't the best. »
Looking back at his kitchen, it was time for a decision.
« Rice with coconut milk and spicy steak for the brave ! Either I survive the lunch or I will be stuck in the bathroom for another half hour ! »
After an hearty meal and a digestive nap it was now 8pm, opening his eyes from his sleep for the second time of the day, Pierre opened his window giving him the view of the second most famous graveyard of Paris : Père Lachaise. It was the main reason he kept his flat for years now, the view of the peaceful graves and the trees swinging gently with the breeze always helped him settle his mind, no matter the problem, no matter his mood.
Pouring himself a glass of Rum, he enjoyed the calm, thinking back to the past night when he danced with a Rum bottle in hand claiming to be a pirate in their … 3 rd bar ? Or was it the 4 th ?
Well the decorations of the bar with wood barrels helped. And the sea shanty techno organic remix too. Weird musical style that reused every folkloric and legends songs of old times but pretty smooth when you are in the mood !
Smirking to himself Pierre lighted a cigarette and inhaled deeply before exhaling the smoke, looking at his glass already half empty.
WOUSH
« Uh ? »
Feeling a strong wind battering the whole facade of his building, Pierre lifted his head to look up.
Then he froze.
WOUSH WOUSH woush
Between 20/30 meters (65/98feet) with wings, scales refracting the light of the downing sun.
A pair of horns ending in sharps barbs like a harpoon head, a mouth full of fangs and 4 legs with sharp claws.
A giant winged lizard peacefully (?) passing by ...
« Is that a fucking dragon ? » was the only word Pierre managed to squeeze out of his mouth after a full minute had passed.
Looking around, there wasn't anyone panicking, screaming or running for their life. The street between his building and the graveyard was the same as always. He looked back at his glass still half empty in wonder.
« Ok, let's eat and sleep, no more Rum for this Pirate or I will soon find myself sent to Sync».