![]() ![]() ![]() In a fit of frustration, I tossed the sheet off my bed. Those crunchy grain cakes certainly beat starvation, but they had a tendency to sit on the gut like a redneck cinderblock on the porch of life. ![]() The PUKs we'd all been eating had worn out their welcome and probably my stomach lining. It was TEOTWAWKI.Īll it took this night was my hunger growling its discontent. Instead, I was lucky to get twenty minutes of REM every night. I'd wake up tripping over my own Rip Van Winkle-style beard and smelling like a garden full of onions and teenage feet.Īnd I'd bask in the unkempt stench of it all. After having fought back a modest horde of cannibals within the very walls of our own private, decently stocked and fairly well secured hospital, baptized the Pearly Gates, I wanted nothing more than to slam my head into a pile of memory foam and sleep off the last few weeks. Sleep comes in fits and spurts these days. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |