truth

Everything smelled faintly of burnt toast and vomit.  Pizza boxes, dirty socks, wadded up mail, empty beer bottles, and a variety of papers smothered the room; it was a domestic wasteland.  The ants provided a portable floor.  They ruled all that was in sight, carrying away food and doing whatever else ants do.  In the middle of the chaos lay a figure, spread eagle, with a trail of drool leaking from his mouth.     

“Ughhh,” he groaned. 

 Eric woke grabbing his stomach.  Once he started to regain consciousness, he realized he was laying in the fetal position with lord-knows-what stuck to his feet.  Turned out it was a melted gum stick attached to an old receipt.  Well, that was one mystery solved.

 But what he couldn’t figure out was what had happened the night before.  A blurry alcohol-induced haze enveloped the whole night.

 Everything was just a scramble of isolated memories, none of them were connected, none of them really made sense.  None of them seemed real either, and he wondered if he hadn’t just invented everything.

 Well, all that would have to wait, at least until his head stopped pounding.

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