Hangover

[Necromagus]

I feel like crap. ItÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s the first conclusion my mind makes as it lurches from its slumber. The conclusion is based on the sensory information that slowly trickles in from all parts of my body. A throbbing headache slowly drones on, almost blocking out the aching joints, the surging nausea, the eye sockets that feel like theyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ve been stuffed with wads of tinfoil and the mouth that feels like itÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s been sucking on a pillow all night.

 

 

 

A second, more precise conclusion is formed. Hangover. My old man will tell everyone whoÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ll listen that itÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s an evolutionary mechanism to separate the men from the boys. The pastor used to say that itÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s GodÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s way of warning us against the evils of alcohol. The pastor died of a heart attack on his fortieth birthday. My dad is twice as old as me and has a thirst to match. And me? IÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ve been here often enough to know which one of the two was right.

 

 

 

Another coherent thought flares to life. Water. I try to pull myself upright, but after a few minutes of struggling I give up and decide to just roll out from under the blankets. They feel like sandpaper as they pass over my bare skin. I land on my hands and knees and the jolt of impact triggers a violent struggle within my stomach. My throat manages to hold back two late night hamburgers. Just barely. I swallow several times to settle myself before slowly standing up.

 

 

 

As I find my balance the realization strikes me that itÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s Friday, that I have a class at eleven that I canÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t afford to miss. I force myself to look around for any kind of clue as to how late it is. ThereÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s not enough light passing through the curtains for a sunrise. I let out a relieved sigh. Hopefully just enough time to recover.

 

 

 

I take a hesitant first step, just barely managing to keep my balance. Two more steps. I let go of the desk and set out towards the door. Three wobbly steps later my feet connects with what feels and sounds like an empty bottle. It rolls across the floor until it collides with a piece of furniture. The clank of impact echoes across my room and my head. I clutch at my skull in agony, waiting for the noise to die down.

 

 

 

When my head finally settles I work up the strength to lurch forward again. Three more steps take me towards the door. In the darkness I take an educated guess as to where the doorknob is. Luckily I manage to find it in one try, and I almost smile as I stumble across the living room towards the kitchen.

 

 

 

Finally. Water. I yank the faucet open and lap at the cold stream like a dog. Even if there was a clean cup to be found somewhere within walking distance my body wouldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t have let me look for it. The water is freezing. Just right. I continue to drink hungrily until everything except for the headache seems like a distant echo. What the water wonÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t fix, aspirin and coffee will. Later. Right now my body just wants more sleep, and I just barely manage to resist the temptation of crashing down on the couch I pass on the way back to my bed.

 

 

 

In a brief moment of lucidity I search the floor for my pants, struggling to stop my hands from trembling as I pull my cell phone out of my pocket to set the alarm clock, squinting to shield my eyes from the glare of the screen. My rational side forces my fingers to punch in a time that will allow me to force myself to look somewhat presentable in a few hours.

 

 

 

Then I suddenly feel the mattress shift under me. The motion startles me so much that I accidentally drop my phone. I start to turn around when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I freeze. The gentleness and warmth of the touch seems to take away the shock of an unknown person in my bed. I hear a soft groan, and I canÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t help but let out a slight sigh of relief when my brain decodes it as female.

 

 

 

When nothing happens for half a minute I slowly turn around. I can just barely make out a face and half a naked body in the darkness, the rest is concealed by the blankets. I slowly reach over to brush away raven black hair to reveal the most beautiful face IÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ve ever seen. She looks at me. I look back. The angel begins to smile and for just a second God isnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t a vindictive bastard whose only hobby is nailing poor island communities with typhoons and earthquakes.

 

 

 

Just as I notice she isnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t looking at my eyes but at my neck she lunges forward, sucking at the few drops of water that had trickled down from the corners of my mouth. I let myself fall backward as she sucks her way up my skin. She has it just as bad as I have, and sheÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s kissing me out of thirst in a way that no woman could ever kiss me out of love. She pins me underneath her and kisses me hard, almost as if to suck the water right out of me.

 

 

 

Finally she lets go. ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅWater.ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

[Zonorhc]

Nice twist on the ending there. You had me thinking "Yep, been there, done that" right through the whole thing. Hangovers aren't nice at all - then BAM there's a hot babe in bed with you. Man, I wish all hangovers had that small consolation.

 

 

 

Another solid work by you. Keep it up!

[Necromagus]

Meh, this is hardly solid. Only marginally better than the stuff I trash. I haven't written an actual story in weeks

[issy2]

Neat lol...I've never had a hangover but it doesn't sound good. :-s

 

Anyway yeah...another fantastic story by Necromagus... =D>

[Toxicologist]

Hangover... doesn't sound nice at all...

 

 

 

Remind me never to drink anything but coffee and green tea. And water, but I hate water. My mom always says I will die of Kidney Failure someday. Meh.

[Fist_of_ozzy]

Hangover's suck real bad. Excellent story btw!

[thepo1]

haha cool

[dragoncmd]

necro, wheres your trash can? May I go picking through it?

[ForsakenMage]

necro, wheres your trash can? May I go picking through it?

He sent his scraps to me to throw in my rubbish bin. #-o :P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excellent work as usual. :3>

[Necromagus]

necro, wheres your trash can? May I go picking through it?

Better if you don't. I've seriously damaged at least two relationships because of people reading some of the stuff I keep to myself :-w