The Way It Is

motherfucking hangover

Oh, dear celestial star! What the fuck is that noise!

My head is so damn sore, and there is no way I am opening my eyes to check. But even with my eyes closed, I think I could still shoot whatever is making that awful racket, and I feel confident I won't miss.

If I can find my bloody gun.

"STOP!" Ooohh fuck.

I shouldn't have done that. Yelling was stupid. The pain in my head sends a wave of nausea through me.

Nope! Not puking! Screw you body! Suck it up!

I frown and roll over onto my side. Stars. I am on the floor. I never made it to the bed. Probably passed out in the damn chair and fell over. It serves me right. Who am I to have such a good time?

Ugghhh. The floor isn't so bad.

I want to go back to sleep, but the blinding, stabbing pain piercing my skull, isn't going to let that happen. I am strongly considering curling into the fetal position and moving on into my next life.

Karma would follow me, though. Yup, I deserve this pain.

The noise comes back, and it dares to be even louder this time. I don't dare yell again. If nothing, I am a fast learner.

Fuck, it's someone actually knocking at my door, not just random noise. I think I just heard my name, but my head doesn't want to listen. The high pitch ringing in my ears isn't helping.

Assholes. Don't they know I am hungover, still lying on the floor for star's sake!

Ugghhh. I groan again or croak, maybe. They will go away sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

Finally, it stops. I feel cold slime, drool, on my cheek that had been pressed to the floor. Classy, I know. That's me, all feminine whiles and class.

If I don't do something about the pain soon, I will most definitely be sick. But there's nowhere to throw up in my room, except out the window, where everyone would be watching. That isn't an option.

Somewhere I still have some Kartoil Fish juice. It's the worst tasting stuff I have ever had the pleasure of swallowing, and I feel my body shiver, stomach muscles clenching once again, just at the thought of opening the bottle. But it will work. Like a bloody fucking miracle cure, actually.

The trick will be opening my eyes to look for it. This is going to hurt like a bitch!

Aaagghhh! A strange mangled sound escapes my throat as I open my eyes.

The bloody room is spinning, my stomach is considering a revolt yet again, and I am pretty sure the part of my brain behind my eyes just exploded.

Eyes blinking rapidly and squinting into the room with my hand up, trying in vain to block the light, I realize it has to be almost midday. No wonder someone is banging on my door.

I am very grateful my reputation precedes me, and no one has a big enough pair to just break in. I am usually the first up, barely sleeping at all, so they may have thought I was gone already well before I yelled at them anyways.

Shit, it's bright out!

It takes way too long, but I finally find my fish juice as I stumble around half hazardously. Not much left. Damn! And we have another two moon cycles to go before the Centennial sends more drones with our biannual supply drop.

I guess I could lay off the hard stuff if I have to. I only drink so I can sleep anyways. There is a local witch doctor I haven't met yet that makes a decent sleeping potion, or tea, as the Humans call it. Maybe it's time to introduce myself.