King Hell Hangover
[a Bad Dollar story]
by
Sheldon Birnie
© 2012 Sheldon Birnie
Smashwords Edition
A Bad Dollar story
www.baddollar.com
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Frank opened his eyes slowly. Sunlight stabbed into them from between the drapes across his window. Motes spun aimlessly in the brilliant void, rustled from their orbits by Frank’s putrid breath.
He blinked twice and groaned. Inside his head pounded a brutal beat, blood hammering relentlessly. His mouth tasted of ashtray, ethanol, and bile, with a hint of processed meat and rotting cheese. His teeth were wearing sweaters, smoky, foul sweaters.
Frank rolled over, and stared through the blinding pillar of light at the cracking, smoke stained ceiling above his bed. Hung over again. And how.
A wave of nausea hit Frank. He reached out his hands and gripped his mattress. His right hand slapped into wet sheets with sickening thump.
“Oh god,” said Frank as his mind reeled, wondering just what fluid his palm might be absorbing. “Oh god, no…”
He kept his hands in place for a moment, and let the situation sink in. Had he pissed his bed, or had he puked? Both? Or was it something worse?
Maybe he just spilt some water, or a beer, on his way to passing out in bed. Maybe the ceiling was leaking. A quick scan to his right showed that the last option was moot. Well, then.