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jfrey wrote:Ever get super drunk but 100% lucid? Want to do a lot but can't.

jfrey wrote:Ever get super drunk but 100% lucid? Want to do a lot but can't.

DuoSonicII wrote:Sweet, sweet zolpidem tartrate...time for some AMBIEN JAMZ(TM), bitchez.

Mourning After Pills

Johnny awoke abruptly. His body felt heavy and he could hardly move his head. The room was dim. The only light was filtering through the window shades from the outside. An alarm clock, an empty highball glass, and a half-empty bottle of sleeping pills sat on the night stand. The clock was blinking "12:00."

It took all of his strength to get out of bed, but before both feet were on the ground, the room was spinning. He threw open the door, took a quick ten steps, and vomited into the toilet. When he had finished, Johnny wiped his face with the sheet of paper he had been clutching in his left hand. On his way to the bathroom, he had inadvertently pulled it off the outside of his bedroom door where it had been taped the night before. Now covered in half-digested whisky and kung-pow chicken, he could hardly make out what he had written on it. All he could recognize were a few names: Marco, Caroline, his parents, the rest was illegible. He didn't quite remember all the words, but he knew the purpose of that note when he made those violent, addled strokes across the page the night before. And now, it was moot as he'd be the only one to see that paper in either form.

After spending an hour in the bathtub cleaning himself but mostly just building up strength, he made his way onto the couch. From there, Johnny could reach his phone in order to check his voicemail. Both messages were from earlier in the day:

The First Message: "Hey Johnny! I'm sorry, after the power went out, I couldn't make it out last night to help with, uh, what did you say you needed help with? Something about moving boxes of Caroline's stuff, but that I should check your room first. You were kinda slurring when we talked last night. Are you ok, man? I'm sure this whole thing sucks for you. Call me back when you get this."

The Second Message: "Johnny. It's Caroline, calling to remind you that I'll be coming with Rick to get the rest of my stuff today. We'll be there right at three. I still have the key and Rick's with me, so you don't even need to be there."

Johnny looked around the room. Three large boxes and one smaller box occupied an entire corner of the small apartment room. "Those are hers and the rest is mine," he thought, "I don't even need to be here." His watch said two o'clock as he walked down into the street. He decided to give Marco a call. His whole body hated him, but his mind was screaming for a beer.

snipelfritz wrote:Do you have the thing where certain things(mainly text) look like their bending further and further away? And have you ever looked at you face in a mirror and thought, "That isn't my face," and stood there poking it for 15 minutes until you decide to shave only your neck and start moving furniture around the house in your underwear?