In the hospital, after I was ousted to the waiting room by the nursing staff once Brooke's dad had called and put the fear of supreme litigious retribution into them were they to let me see my girlfriend as she lay dying, ya know, so he was in control, I just sat dumb-eyed in the waiting room with Brooke's best friend Carla, and answered her simple, objective questions of the previous night's events.
"Did you guys fight?"
"Not really..." I lied.
"Was she drunk?"
"Not... before... not until the champagne..."
And it went on like that for a while until one of the nurses came out to give us an update.
"Well, she's okaaaaay, she's still not really conscious though."
"So how is that okay?"