That Night by Phoenix Fanatic

Saturday, 5:12 p.m.

Ten years in the future, it'll be called "that night".

We didn't wake up with a tiger in our bathroom. We didn't wake up feeling like P. Diddy. We didn't even wake up to room service with scrambled eggs and Bacon. Such a shame.

No, we woke up to having our asses kicked, which wasn't the greatest confidence booster in the world.

And it wasn't even a cool ass kicking. I mean, if zombies had done it, I would've been totally fine with that. The world needs more zombies. Well, the world needs a lot of things (peace, love, cake) but I would've appreciated not being tackled by the newest crop of graduates from New York City's police department.

Yeah, that sort of sucked.

I learned a lot last night. We all did. I learned about life, I learned about love, and I learned that Lady Gaga doesn't wear pants for her grandmother. Huh.

I woke up about ten minutes ago, which is sort of sad and sort of awesome at the same time. Sadsome? I guess that's my new word. Fang was the one who woke me up. He kept poking me in the ribs until I opened my eyes.

"What did you do with the goat?" he asked from beside me. You know it's been a good night when there have been goats.

"Some little girl has a new best friend," I said. You would be surprised how many people don't want goats. I mean, if someone offered me a goat, I would take it and never look back.

"He was a good friend." He still had that moustache on. I was tempted to rip it off since he looked like a creeper who would watch over me when I sleep. (Look, if Edward had a moustache, everyone would want to arrest him and put him in jail for twenty to life.)

"Yeah."

We let the waves crash over us for a little while longer.

It's pretty funny how no one ever stops and looks at what they have, you know? We're surrounded by millions of people and all of these lights and sounds and we're the only people here.

Maybe because they're so used to it, they never really saw it.

I hope the rest of the Flock is okay. I feel like I should probably look for them, but since I don't see any mushroom clouds on the horizon, I feel as if they're probably asleep further down the beach as well.

Part of me doesn't remember who survived. I do, however, distinctly recall the use of blowtorches and... karaoke? That really shows you what's important to me.

Fang fell asleep just a few minutes ago, and here I am now, wondering just how I'm supposed to explain this all to Mom. I lost that cell phone a while ago and the fire-proof, drop-proof, water-proof camera certainly wasn't Iggy-proof. But I won't let the rest of the Flock get away without sharing the blame. They should explain, too.

I just hope I can remember it all...