THE LOST WEEKEND

 

Oh, what calamity did befall?

What an embarrassment for us all

We over imbibed on Saturday night

And awoke on Sunday none too bright

On the porch the paper lay unread

We couldn’t face it and went back to bed

So next morning which was Monday

We found the paper and thought it was Sunday

So, we had a relaxing fun day

Not realising it was really Monday

On Tuesday when I returned to work

I really felt a proper berk

My boss had a true-blue fit

And saw no humour at all in it

And verbally assailed me with his rancour

Then he called me a total fool

Uncanny Tales – (12) Foggy Mornings

 

The day began in a thick fog, both of the meteorological sort and of the mind, the former being a seasonal feature while the latter was as a result of the consumption of an excess of the local brew aptly known as brain damage and although the autumn sunshine very quickly burnt off the fog it had little or no effect on his alcohol induced mussiness.

His mouth was dry and furry and his eyes itched and he felt as if something was alive and crawling through his intestines and his head throbbed with every beat of his heart.
When he looked at the stranger with the bloodshot eyes staring back at him from the bathroom mirror he uttered those immortal words "never again”, and he meant it then, most sincerely because he felt so awful but by the day after next it would just be an unpleasant memory.
When he was a teenager he would get bladdered and next morning his hangover would only last a little over an hour and then he would be back in the pub at lunchtime.
When he was in his 20's it would last an hour longer, in his thirties he would forget the lunchtime session but be banging on the Pub door at five.
Now he was in his late forties his hangover lasted all day and sometimes even two, but they would go eventually so even when he said "never again" at the time he knew that he would still have the over indulgent fun and face the consequences.