Friday, August 28, 2009

A Hangover

The air is cold on my ribs and I’ve got the shakes. My liver is furious with me and he’s not leaving any room for doubt in my mind. He wants me to know that he’s upset. That’s fair. I deserve it. My stomach doesn’t play around, though. He’s fine. I rarely puke. My stomach is world-class. He can hold just about anything down. Additionally, I’ve met the morning with aggravated allergies and I can’t breathe through my nose. My pounding headache is simply the cherry on top of the giant sundae that is this miserable 200 pound jackass. I need to be at the gym in an hour.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.


All content copyright 2009 Michael Scuro - All Rights Reserved