As Martin opened his eyes, it took him a while to realize where he was. The effect of whatever he’d taken the night before hadn’t properly worn off yet and he still felt dazed. He looked around the room taking his time to absorb the strange medieval decoration. He blinked a few times trying to clear his vision and slowly his focus started to come back. Over on the far wall, above a magnificent marble fireplace he could see a knight’s shield positioned over two crossed swords. To the right of the fireplace a full-size suit of armor. The floor had been lined with Persian rugs and the walls plastered with tapestries and paintings of English Dukes, Lords, Kings and Queens.
With great effort he sat up. His head felt heavy and a bitter taste lingered in his mouth. Only then he realized he’d been sleeping in a four-poster bed surrounded by silk sheets and pillows. Damn, I fell asleep on the set of King Arthur, he thought to himself with a little chuckle. Over on the bedside table, several pills lay scattered together with a small cellophane bag – some sort of white powder inside it.
That’s what I need before the comedown hits me, he thought. Without knowing or caring what they were, Martin picked up a couple of pills from the table and popped them into his mouth. He looked around searching for something to wash them down with. A half-full bottle of champagne was on the floor next to the bed. He took a large swig of it and shook his head, allowing the stale liquid to run down his throat. He waited a few minutes for the pills to start taking effect before getting up and slowly making his way out of the room.
From the landing Martin had a clear view of the living room downstairs. He could see another nine or ten people spread over the ancient-looking furniture and rug. One lonely body had fallen asleep over the grand piano. Two naked hookers on the floor next to it. Everyone seemed down and out. Martin stumbled over to the staircase passing another empty room to his right. This is definitely the entertainment room, he thought as he peeked inside. Holding on to the balustrade, he made his way down to the room below, one slow step at a time. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he realized how hungry he was.
‘Where the hell is the kitchen in this horrible place?’ he said out loud, scanning the exotically decorated lounge. He heard noises coming from a room at the end of a small corridor to the left of the staircase. ‘Someone is up.’
Staggering as if drunk, Martin made it to the door. He tried to push it open but it barely moved. He wasn’t sure if it was stuck or his effort just hadn’t been enough. He took a step back and tried again, this time throwing his right shoulder against the door and putting every last ounce of energy into it. The door swung open and Martin was catapulted onto the floor.
‘Hey, man, are you OK?’ Duane, Martin’s best friend, was sitting at the kitchen table with a two-liter bottle of water in front of him.
Slowly Martin picked himself off the floor. The kitchen was very spacious, and unlike the rest of the house, decorated in a pleasant modern style. The black Italian marble worktop contrasted beautifully with the gleaming, polished, stainless-steel double-door fridge positioned at the north end of the room. An overwhelming collection of pots and pans hung grandly above the table where Duane was sitting.
‘Are you the only one up?’ Duane asked, sounding a little too animated.
‘I haven’t seen anyone awake apart from you, but then again I only surfaced a little more than ten minutes ago.’
‘Have you looked around this place? It’s awesome. It’s more like a museum than a house, except for this kitchen. Whoever owns this place is totally obsessed with medieval England, it’s everywhere like a rash.’ Duane’s words came out fast and in a steady rhythm like a machine gun.
‘And you think that’s awesome?’ Martin’s expression clearly indicated that he didn’t share Duane’s thoughts.
‘Well, it’s very different.’
Martin wasn’t very interested in Duane’s house review. His eyes roamed the kitchen looking for something. ‘Is there any food around?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, man, truck loads of it, just check the fridge.’
As Martin opened the fridge door he was greeted by an enormous variety of junk food. From donuts to marshmallows, hot dogs to fried chicken – a hungry man’s paradise. He quickly grabbed a jar of peanut butter and one of jelly together with two cans of soda and a bag of marshmallows. ‘How about bread?’ he asked, facing his friend once again.
‘Right over there.’ Duane pointed to a bread dispenser on the kitchen worktop.
Martin wasted no time in retrieving a couple of bread slices. Using a knife he found in the sink he smothered the bread with enormous amounts of peanut butter and jelly.