"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.





Gary Miller1 Comment