The little piss-ant children outside sound like a thousand screaming banshees. A car door slammed outside my window a moment ago, I swear an H-bomb went off at that moment. My friends inquire from time to time why I drink so much, I never know what to say. I begin to take inventory of my body parts as part of a pseudo checklist (I say pseudo because I don't really care what's missing.) My mouth feels like I have furry wet slipper shoved in it, until I realize that it's my tongue. My head feels as thought I just had a full frontal lobotomy without the benefit of anesthesia. Sometimes the pain subsides just long enough for me to slip into reality, only to have it snatched away again. My memory is recovered in the same fashion. The light is rendering my eyes useless despite the fact I have not opened them yet. I try to shift my eyes to avoid the sun's harsh light, only to find that the cloud of dust that choked the life out of this planet 180 billion years ago has settled beneath my eyelids. I don't remember going to sleep. Did I sleep? It seems I took my self-medication regime a bit to far last night. Why do people drink this much?
             There are all manner of ways to put off hangovers, or lessen the blow of them. Believe me I have tired them all; everything from drinking a glass of water for every drink I took to massive doses of vitamin C the following morning. Even the over-the-counter market has pursued a solution to the morning after blues. Alka-Seltzer released its Morning Relief medication aimed at "undoing" the previous nights excess of fun about a year ago with much rejoice from some college students. I heard about it from a friend of mine in Galveston who swears by the stuff. "Dude," he says emphatically, "You have got to try this stuff. You can drink all you want and still wake up before noon." Well, if your only goal is to wake up before noon, then he&a
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