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Chapter 22: Just Get Me Home

Dear Journal

As the hung-over castaways all lurched through the office towards the parking lot and their respective cars, I couldn’t help but notice how similar this state of “hangover-edness” was to most days at the office. The nausea, the headaches, the painful expression of regret in everyone’s faces; the only real difference was that it was a Saturday morning. I thought I had managed to escape the worst of my hangover, but I was as wrong as the little dresses that Doris makes her cats wear.

As I got to my noble chariot – 1995 Toyota Tazz, I was greeted by several spritely joggers who on any other day would have received a hearty if not completely faked reply, but today all that was forthcoming was a grunt. As I opened the car door I was struck by a tidal wave of heat which of course did wonders for my nausea. Naturally this would also be the day that the air-conditioning in the car decides to cease; surely it has been cursed by the evil air duct wizard in my cubicle. Man, I hate that guy (even though I’ve never met him) I needed to find a cure to this hangover and fast.

I tried my best to concentrate on my driving and not the vomiting butterflies in my stomach and managed fairly well I thought considering the steering well felt as if it were made of molten lava. I must have been quite the sight to behold; driving squint eyed; sweating from the lack of air conditioning and swerving left and right due to tapping the steering wheel in order to drive or risk burning off the skin on my hands.

Those who claim miracles don’t happen would be astounded to know that I made it the local merchant with not so much as a dent, although the same cannot be said for the nerves of some of the other motorists and pedestrians who were on the road nearby.

I stumbled into the shop like a cripple with a crutch made of jelly. Strangely enough I was incredible hungry, but even the thought of the jelly crutches from the previous simile made me want to vomit. Everyone in the store was staring, babies were crying and parents were dropping bags of groceries to cover their children’s eyes and ears.

I wondered why the big deal. Sure, I was a little hungover and probably smelled a bit past my expiration date, but there was no need for this. It was only as I stumbled past the frozen foods section that I caught my reflection in the upright fridges and remembered that I was still dressed as a special-Ed pirate. A water wing wearing, life-jacket adorned pirate…with nothing else on.

I wasn’t sure if it was this realisation or the fact that I was near the fridges, but I suddenly felt very cold and as I looked for my pirate flag skirt I had been wearing I noticed a very similar one waving outside, caught in my front door. The Skull and Crossbones seemed to laugh as it waved in the wind outside.

I swallowed my pride, which was pretty much all I could keep down at the time and walked out the shop. No one seemed to mind that I didn’t pay for the bags on frozen peas that I was using to hide my nether regions.

I drove home faster than I think is humanly possible, at the speed of pure embarrassment.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, eating handfuls of frozen peas on the way. I opened the door and collapsed in my bed.

I felt like I was in hell. I was sweating, yet cold; I was hungry; yet nauseous; I was shaking and it terrible endless pain, but despite all this I could only hold on to one single thought… this is better than work.

 
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Posted by on July 22, 2011 in journal

 

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