Hand In Hand

Another glorious morning presented itself with the sun shining and the birds that sing constantly. And they sing, and they sing and they sing and I’ve never wanted to kill anything as urgently as I wanted to kill these damn birds. My head was pounding and it seemed like this was the morning that all of England had arouse and decided to congregate under my window. I had heard children playing, women talking and men sighing. I had heard car doors slam, car alarms speak to each other and dogs bark. The birds though were the bane of my life at this moment. My mouth felt like several ashtrays poured into one. Alcohol still lingered in my brain, body and most repugnantly, breathe. Every single crevice and orifice smelt of either cigarettes or alcohol. This was my punishment for one night of extreme excess, one night of daring decadence an anachronism to my teenage years. I had yet to wrestle myself to full consciousness but could muster one eye to remain open. Waking up is nice for those first few moments before you remember who and what you are. I stood up and cracked my fingers and back and went, with desperate need, to brush my teeth.

 

I had barely made it out of my bed before the pounding in my head stopped me in my tracks and pushed me back into my covers.“Kill me now or cease this eternal pounding” I screamed in my head. I blinked a couple times, rousing myself enough to realize that the pounding that was in my head had been replaced by the buzzing on my phone. I had been awake not five minutes but already I had experienced more sounds than a man should expect in a whole day.

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