The Aftermath

STOP BANGING.
I turn over to make eye contact with the clock's hands.
They taunt me.
Seconds of the day are just ticking away ... this hangover just won't stand UP.
It's going to have back problems. SO FUCK IT. KARMA I tell you ... KARMA.
WHO THE HELL IS KNOCKING AT MY DOOR AT 2:00 IN THE AFTERNOON?
G-d, when did the second hand on my clock get so LOUD?
Don't tell me ....
I hear children screaming and laughing, carnival lights buzzing and blinking, rides singing, beer tapping, and funnel cakes nauseating.
Fuck them.
"BBBGOCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK bgbgbggbg bgogckkk"
Chikens?
Hashem, you're really throwing me for a loop here aren'tcha.
I sit on the edge of my bed ...
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
It peels off, each taste bud letting go like the sucker of an octopus.
I fall backwards.
Beer and funnel cakes.
Who knew?
Bubby ... g-d she always fucking does, doesn't she?
WELL, guess I'm skipping Shabbat dinner tonight ... I'm too hungover.
Fuck, I did that last Friday.
I need to make a move.
The kitchen is too far.
So, I roll over towards my message machine.
The red light is blinking.
GREAT.
Let's get this over with.
"Hey John, its Jeb, you know... Jeb... from down a few flights ... well more like a bunch of flights ... well ANYWAYS I had a lot of fun last night ... the beer, the funnel cakes, and your Grandma ... or whatdyou call her? Bubba? Well whatever, she's a HOOT! And Courtney? DUDE... nice score last night ... she's hot. Sure talks alot ... but she's hot ... Anyways, I'll meet you in the lobby at 5 ... Bubba said Shabbat starts no later than sun down... right? What should I bring? There are loose chikens in the streets ... have you been outside yet today? IT's CRAZY! Well ... after I knocked out that guy last night and you threatened that gangbanger with a ..."
I can't. Do. This.
Pull the chord out of the outlet.
Hey Bruce,
(I say to poster of Bruce Springstein on the ceiling over my bed)
wake me up at 4:55 for Shabbat dinner ...
Bubby will kill me if I miss again.
I hit the pillow. Hard.