What the hell are you even talking about?

"What the hell are you even talking about? What fucking comet? You do know what time it is right? You remember what time I went to bed, asshole?" I ask, getting more pissed and more confused.

"DUDE," your asshole friend starts.

That's not fair, he's not an asshole, but when I'm on two hours of sleep, you don't want to hear from anybody.

"Get down to the university! The Astronomy Department at Widley was granted exclusive rights to study the damn thing! They're giving a press conference in like 15 minutes."

"The women's college?" I ask, still trying to process everything while I wake up. I wince at my question and my tone once I realize what I said.

"Now who is the asshole? Yes, the women's college, you misogynist fuck. We're going. get showered up and put on some clean clothes, I'll be there in ten." I mentally start processing timelines and I decide I'd better get moving because he's not going to take no for an answer.

"Why are we going instead of watching on TV?" I ask, stripping your PJ pants off as I walk past the open windows of my apartment.

"Two reasons," he replies. In the background I can make out a noise that sounds like a car door opening and a second later closing as he paused his speech. "First, because it's going to be an unprecedented event in the town and it will be a cultural phenomenon."

"Fair," I say, waving out the window to anyone that might be peeping in my windows.

"And, two, it's at the women's college, and we might just be able to find somebody enough to fuck you."

"Now who is the misogynist asshole today?"

I could practically hear my friend smiling through the phone as I hang up. He was right, though.