Hangover

Joe’s head hurt more than usual. What happened last night? Where had he been, what had he done? He was hoping he’d never find out. No news were good news.

He turned his head. A woman was lying beside him. Pretty. Too pretty. Definitely a whore, there’s no way she’d be here for free. He looked around. He seemed to be in some cheap motel somewhere. At least he hadn’t brought her home.

I’m too old for this shit, he thought to himself.

His bladder was about to explode, so he pulled himself together and got out of bed. It hurt. Every muscle, every bone. His mind. His mind hurt like hell, and the room was spinning.

He went out into the bathroom, and sat down on the loo. He sat there for a while. Images flashing by, memories of yesterday. Girls laughing. Him dancing on the table.

Too old, he thought. Too fucking old.

He pulled a sheet from the paper roll, started folding it. A sound. He looked down between his legs.

A rat. (More)