Christmas morning hangover. What else can I say? The wine and rum combination was a bad idea. I should say the rum and wine combination was a bad idea.
I guess it was all a bad idea. Poor Crystal was worried about what people thought. I don’t know if I worry about what people think anymore.
It’s an onion world and I look through different layers on different days.
The things people think, or the way people think, infuriate me sometimes. So I guess, yes, I worry about what they think. Otherwise I wouldn’t hate what they think. Hypocrites.
Crystal makes breakfast. She’s a good sport and a good assistant. She usually plays along and doesn’t complain too much. I drink tomato juice right out of the jug. I can’t stop slugging it down. Damn, its good stuff. It’s a waffle house breakfast. That’s good too. I can’t go to the waffle house anymore, so Crystal makes exact replicas at home.
Someone barfed under a table at the waffle house and didn’t tell anybody. Then later on I came in and sat there. One thing leads to another you know, and pretty soon I was kicked out of the waffle house.
Every time I ride by I smell barf. I don’t think I’d go in there even if they allowed me to 🙂
It is a quiet Christmas morning in our household. We don’t celebrate in traditional fashion. I normally get drunk and Crystal takes pills, smokes weed, or snorts coke or speed. Sometimes I combine the booze with drugs of different kinds. Actually that’s exactly what I am pondering as we eat our waffles in silence.
“Do you have any of that vidocaine?”
“It’s Vi-co-din.” she is a stickler for proper pronunciation.
“Do we have any? I have a bit of a headache.“
Crystal gets up and leaves the room. I’m getting hopeful. She returns with a little gift, bow and all. I open it slowly. I guess I should have gotten her something. It’s a little box of assorted pills. My heart soars with joy. I truly can’t imagine a better gift.
“Thank you honey!” I recognize the Vicodin and pluck one from the box.
Vicodins are better one at a time. There was a time I would have taken four, but I’m learning to enjoy more subtle pleasures. I examine the contents of the little gift box. I identify Valiums, Xanax and Vicodins.
There are other pills which will have to be researched. I smile at Crystal.
“Merry Christmas Crystal. Your gift is coming.”
Crystal smiles sweetly. “You don’t have to get me anything.“
The Vicodin takes the edge off. That’s what it does. I don’t hate so hard after taking one. I’m not a lunatic. It’s just a matter of a few degrees this way, a few degrees that way. Shit does have a way of finding me. This goes without question.
Crystal starts some laundry and I rummage around in her purse. Just enough for a gift, forty dollars. That’s what I take. Manna from heaven, that’s all I need. I believe she’s got weed, but no coke or speed. She isn’t moving like she has any, and I doubt she would have bothered with breakfast if she was wired. I slip out to the garage and do a few bench presses, then
ramble down the street to Big Jim’s place…
A Tragedy in Various Acts
by Louis P. Jaennette