"It Was Ten in the Morning When the Dog Showed Up at His Door" by Jacob Thayer
As I attempt to open my eyes the fog set in fast. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. Then it dawned on me: you’re at home, knucklehead. Two moments have passed and the flashes of what I believe to be memories from the night before start flooding in.
· People in my face yelling
· A scuffle with someone I can’t remember
· Swilling straight vodka out of a handle
· Blue lights coming through the living room window.
—Back to reality, I looked at the clock. 9:59 am. My head us spinning, I feel like shit.