17 November, 2000
(single days are numbered!)
They were almost unnumbered right here in this picture, luckily Harry did not drop the ball on to Main Street, get pulled over the railing foot first, and go splat on the pavement below, only to be run over by a Metro bus.
Remember, Click the thumbnail images on this page to see the "big picture"
The first stop was Slainte (sa-lon-tay), Houston's premier Irish Bar.... The scene begins as the Hash men scope out the local talent....
Order you own prints! Click here! You must get the web address from Hairy!
But wait! There's more.....
Click here for Adobe Acrobat (printable, and easier to read) version of the Hangover.
The
Hangover
You struggle to partial consciousness in total darkness, half-cold and
naked, with a great softish, wet weight pressing down on you: pressing you
flatter and flatter against a stone floor, which seems to be covered in some
kind of sticky, lumpy slime. All you hear is the roar of your blood stream and
the jackhammer pounding your temple. Your mouth and nose seem to be partially
glued closed by some foul-smelling substance. In fact, the whole environment has
the odor of a public latrine in the back streets of (insert your favorite
hellhole: Kinshasa, Da Nang, Iquitos, New Orleans).
The
pressure on your body prevents you from taking decent breaths. Which is just as
well, as a deep breath would, once again, trigger the gag reflex, which has
caused you to puke repeatedly on yourself. Your stomach is a knotted fiery lump,
as though you have drunk a bottle of battery acid.
Your arms and legs are cramped and do not have the strength to push the
weight off your body. And the ammonia-scented, oxygen-deprived, wet atmosphere
is beginning to induce more and more frequent blackouts...
You
do not remember anything of your prior existence: your name, where you are,
where you are supposed to be....... Vague flickerings of consciousness bring
flashes of crowds of laughing fools pressing in towards you...... your whole
universe, even in this enforced static position, seems to be swaying, rising and
falling, while when you attempt to concentrate, you start spinning off into a
vortex.......
In
this primordial state, more a creature of the slime pits of the cretaceous
period than a true human, comes the slight realization that survival may be an
option. A "flight or fight" reaction momentarily pumps adrenalin
through your body: you twitch, thrust, squirm..... The great soggy mass, which
has pressed you down, seems to tilt slightly, allowing you to slither sideways
and thrust yourself free....
Into
a white light, which blasts through your quickly clenched eyelids to stab deep
into your cortex, momentarily over-riding all other senses, like molten lava
pored through the eyeballs.....
…causing
you once again to scrunch up into a fetal position, where the visual stimulus
gradually fades, being replaced once more by the onslaught of the jackhammers
and the acid boiling in your throat and stomach.....
...But
you slowly realize that you have been released from the great weight which had
so recently entrapped you: your arms and legs begin to burn with pins and
needles as circulation slowly returns to them.... Aghhhhhh: what is worst? Your
previous imprisonment or this slow and painful return to some semblance of
consciousness?
You
steel yourself to open one eyelid and find yourself staring at a wall....
Vaguely familiar.... Plain cream paint, uniform, clean...... joining a marble
floor...... but very unsteady, undulating in and out of focus. You close your
eyes tight again, to suddenly start a vicious spinning descent into a blood red
whirlpool..... The centrifugal forces seem to trap your body as your head pounds
and, as you reach the bottom of this hallucinatory pit and the swirling slows,
your stomach reacts once again and attempts to disgorge its contents through the
remains of your throat.... a mere dribble of acid, accompanied by spasms which
tear you limb from limb......
Slowly,
fragments of reality start to filter into your semi-comatose state.... the floor
and wall are recognized as belonging to your bedroom. A bout of shivering causes
you to realize that the air-conditioning is starting to induce an overall crisis
in your body. You slowly lever you body around so your back is against the wall.
You are able to start focusing on the object that previously imprisoned you: the
mattress of your bed...... lying on the floor in a pool of vomit and soaked with
your own urine.....
....and
memories of awakening in some previous existence, falling through space in a
horrific, ever-accelerating downwards spiral and grasping the already urine
soaked mattress as the only thing likely to save you from the maelstrom. But the
storm is too strong and you body, clutching the mattress is lifted and tossed
over, landing with a pleasant splat onto the smooth cold marble surface,
bringing temporary stability and coolness to your fever-wracked body... before
lapsing into unconsciousness........
Once
more, the drive for survival fires off a few synapses: Water! Water! A desperate
need for water..... first on the body... you slither through the door to the
bathroom.... to the shower.... desperately reach for the tap.. at least three
feet above you... impossible to reach.... maximum effort, pushing with the legs
against one wall forces the body into a seated position and allows you to reach
the tap...
A
blast of cold water shocks your body into spasms, to quickly be replaced by a
gentle warm rain, which starts to sooth your agonized frame. You lean back and
allow the water to flow over your face. You open your mouth and allow your
swollen tongue to soften as it is bathed.... you drink.... It tastes foul and
coppery, but your body urges you on... you drink some more... you gag and puke
the water and some more battery acid out. But you persist and take a little
more; you flush your mouth. You drink some more....
A
feeling of lassitude comes over you and again, you drift off into
unconsciousness .......
......
To awake shivering in a freezing rainstorm...... no more hot water........
You
crawl unsteadily to your feet, the world sways, you grasp in front of you.. The
shower curtain! Which slowly gives way as you plunge forwards to land on the
marble floor.
But
your long lost athleticism causes you to twist as you fall, to prevent a full
frontal contact. You take the fall on your left shoulder, which stresses the
collarbone to fracture point...causing your brain to temporarily overload on the
pain..... but instantaneously your momentum causes your head to snap sideways,
striking the marble floor.. causing a bright scarlet, star flecked flash and,
again........ Nothingness......
...until
a purple curtain is lifted from your eyes as your body is jostled amid a total
blur of pain.... voices... a prick..... blackness once more.....
And
gradual re-emergence to another reality..... supine in a clean white bed.. left
shoulder and arm immobilized in a massive cast..... twin hoses in your
nostrils... a needle in one arm connected to a drip...... electrodes stuck to
your chest and head, with a beep...beep......beep in the background....
....
vaguely recognized faces peering at you..... They appear to be dressed in
tuxedos.........
And
one of them saying... "Sorry,
Harry...... you missed the wedding........."
Hairy Palms: Be afraid..... Be VERY afraid..... ;~)
Heartache
"Je Hash, donc je suis" or, if you prefer: "Hasho, ergo sum" Warning: consumption of Stout may cause extreme personality disorders......
Click here for Adobe Acrobat (printable, and easier to read) version of the Hangover.
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