Late night conversation part two

After a few nights of terrible sleep caused by hormones and road rage
and fear of moving to a new city
I’d finally managed to get to sleep before midnight.
Then, my mobile rang.
Fuck.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
Ignored it again.
Of course, it rang again.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi GEMMA.’
Christ.
It was my soon to be flatmate.
‘I’m so DRUNK.’
‘OK.’
‘How are you?’
‘Tired.’
‘I’m eating jam and toast.’
‘Yeah, I can hear.’
He was making loud, glucky chewing sounds into the phone.
‘But I wish I was eating something else.'
'OK.'
'I wanna tell you but it's NAUGHTY.'
'Right.'
'PUSSY.’
Hell.
If that’s how he eats pussy, he’s in trouble.
‘How are YOU GEMMA?’
‘Tired.’
‘I’m dropping the phone, I’m dropping the phone.’
He dropped the phone.
Then, unfortunately, picked it up.
‘Oh, I can’t get back to my bed, I’ll just sleep on the floor.’
‘OK, you do that.’
I hung up.
The grace period of waking up and falling straight back to sleep was long gone.
Thank you, you drunk, horny maniac.
So much for breaking the insomnia spell.