the thinker

He woke up naked next to the lead singer of the band he had last heard. Andrew woke in such a state of disorientation; this seemed to be a reoccurring theme for him of late. Andrew Flannery was not someone who anyone would ever refer to as a party animal, or even a ladies' man for that matter. He was a guy who enjoyed clean socks and a good history documentary; never a dirty kitchen, bed always tidy, collared shirts tucked into his pants that were perhaps pulled up a bit too high, that kind of guy. However, this all seemed to be changing rather suddenly, certainly with some help of the Xanax prescription he had recently acquired. Dr. Teplitz had written the script six months ago on account of Andrew's anxiety. Andrew was the thinker, his brother Josh the jock, and he was always fine with that. He had considered it some what of a gift when he was younger, the fact that it seemed as if his brain was apparently racing at a much higher rate than that of those around him. Now three years out of college, it seemed more of a curse than a blessing. Now it was this very so called "gift" that plagued him so harrowingly. "Don't talk unless you can improve the silence", were the words that his step-dad had once told him, the same words that seemed to linger with Andrew everywhere he went like a fly lingers around a steaming pile of s**t.