Pain. Pain and a bright light. And some god awful racket, a droning noise intermittently mixed with grinding. Oh my god the smell, like the dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant, cooking in the late afternoon sun. Opening my eyes I saw the ceiling of my bedroom slowly spinning around me. Closing my eyes I reached out with my arms to reaffirm my belief in gravity, it was indeed still pulling me towards my bed.
Opening my eyes I found the room had come to rest. I could feel the wind blowing faintly through the open window and across my body. The cool breeze felt good, but it was also reacquainting my olfactory senses with the stench rising from my body. On the plus side I was finally able to discern the source of the “god awful racket” as my neighbor came around the side of his house with his lawnmower. I listened as the sound waxed and waned as he circled his house. Finally I had enough and sat up to see what time it was.
I sat up much too quickly, so much so that I am now sitting on the side of my bed with my head between my knees trying desperately to keep down whatever bio-sludge is in my stomach. Presently my stomach decided to retain its contents and I was able to slowly sit upright. Glancing over at the clock I realized that it was mid-afternoon. Having no memory of events following the fifth, no sixth round of drinks I didn’t know whether I had slept too long or not enough, but I was leaning towards the not enough.
I was all set to lie back down and go back to sleep when my bladder announced that I had a new, and more pressing, problem. Standing up was tricky, for whatever reason there was a lengthy delay in the passage of signals from my brain to my muscles. Fortunately my brain was working slow enough that timing was not crucial, I just had to give the command and then wait for my legs to respond.
I walked slowly to the bathroom, my eyes closed to enjoy the brief moments of sleep that occurred between steps. Upon reaching my destination in front of the throne I opened one eye to aim properly and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was a mess, my shirt was stained with sweat and blood and what appeared to be the remains of several meals. I also realized that aside from my shirt, and the socks I was wriggling my toes in, I wasn’t wearing a stitch of anything else.
But my bladder reasserted its need. I took hold of my equipment and proceeded to let fly. What should have happened was my urine should have traveled and on a nice ballistic trajectory and landed in the bowl. What actually happened was two streams were emitted in opposite directions, neither one of which landed anywhere near the bowl. Thankfully at this point my central nervous system picked this moment to swing into action and closed off the flow from my bladder. I took the momentary reprieve to adjust my equipment, and then eased open the valve. Confident that my plumbing was working correctly I closed my eyes and allowed my bladder to drain.
I almost fell asleep standing there, but was revived as the sound of water splashing changed to the sound of water hitting porcelain. I cracked my eye open and adjusted my aim as the pressure from my bladder slowly let off. I shook hands with the man, flushed and as I stepped out of the bathroom I found a girl lying on the floor beside my bed. She was wearing a pair of my underwear, and not a stitch else. Judging from the stains, there was at least some time where my shirt and that pair of underwear had been on the same body during the previous night, and judging by the smell that body was mine. I stepped back into the bathroom and took a good long look at myself in the mirror. Maybe going back to bed wasn’t a good idea, I needed time to work shit out, and I needed a shower.
After starting the water I held my breath and pulled my shirt over my head. Throwing it in the hamper I placed the heel of my left foot on the toe of my right sock. Leaning on the door jamb for balance I admired the girl lying next to my bed as I pulled my foot out of the sock. I repeated the operation with my other foot, and finding no memory of the girl, I tossed my socks in with my shirt and stepped into the shower. I must have had a hell of a night.
Opening my eyes I found the room had come to rest. I could feel the wind blowing faintly through the open window and across my body. The cool breeze felt good, but it was also reacquainting my olfactory senses with the stench rising from my body. On the plus side I was finally able to discern the source of the “god awful racket” as my neighbor came around the side of his house with his lawnmower. I listened as the sound waxed and waned as he circled his house. Finally I had enough and sat up to see what time it was.
I sat up much too quickly, so much so that I am now sitting on the side of my bed with my head between my knees trying desperately to keep down whatever bio-sludge is in my stomach. Presently my stomach decided to retain its contents and I was able to slowly sit upright. Glancing over at the clock I realized that it was mid-afternoon. Having no memory of events following the fifth, no sixth round of drinks I didn’t know whether I had slept too long or not enough, but I was leaning towards the not enough.
I was all set to lie back down and go back to sleep when my bladder announced that I had a new, and more pressing, problem. Standing up was tricky, for whatever reason there was a lengthy delay in the passage of signals from my brain to my muscles. Fortunately my brain was working slow enough that timing was not crucial, I just had to give the command and then wait for my legs to respond.
I walked slowly to the bathroom, my eyes closed to enjoy the brief moments of sleep that occurred between steps. Upon reaching my destination in front of the throne I opened one eye to aim properly and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was a mess, my shirt was stained with sweat and blood and what appeared to be the remains of several meals. I also realized that aside from my shirt, and the socks I was wriggling my toes in, I wasn’t wearing a stitch of anything else.
But my bladder reasserted its need. I took hold of my equipment and proceeded to let fly. What should have happened was my urine should have traveled and on a nice ballistic trajectory and landed in the bowl. What actually happened was two streams were emitted in opposite directions, neither one of which landed anywhere near the bowl. Thankfully at this point my central nervous system picked this moment to swing into action and closed off the flow from my bladder. I took the momentary reprieve to adjust my equipment, and then eased open the valve. Confident that my plumbing was working correctly I closed my eyes and allowed my bladder to drain.
I almost fell asleep standing there, but was revived as the sound of water splashing changed to the sound of water hitting porcelain. I cracked my eye open and adjusted my aim as the pressure from my bladder slowly let off. I shook hands with the man, flushed and as I stepped out of the bathroom I found a girl lying on the floor beside my bed. She was wearing a pair of my underwear, and not a stitch else. Judging from the stains, there was at least some time where my shirt and that pair of underwear had been on the same body during the previous night, and judging by the smell that body was mine. I stepped back into the bathroom and took a good long look at myself in the mirror. Maybe going back to bed wasn’t a good idea, I needed time to work shit out, and I needed a shower.
After starting the water I held my breath and pulled my shirt over my head. Throwing it in the hamper I placed the heel of my left foot on the toe of my right sock. Leaning on the door jamb for balance I admired the girl lying next to my bed as I pulled my foot out of the sock. I repeated the operation with my other foot, and finding no memory of the girl, I tossed my socks in with my shirt and stepped into the shower. I must have had a hell of a night.
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