I Wrote This. Honest

To put the last 72-hours to bed, I’ve – ahem – come up with this:

 I lie sprawled … spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of morning. The light does me harm, but not as much as looking at things does; I resolve, having done it once, never to move my eyeballs again.

My mouth has been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, I’ve somehow gone on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by the secret police.

I feel bad.


6 Responses to I Wrote This. Honest

  1. Hannah says:

    Ouch. Ibuprofen, tea and bed. In that order.

  2. stinkypaw says:

    Reads like a hangover… a good one at that!

  3. 100 Words says:

    Good spot. I shall correct, delete your comment and nobody will be any the wiser. Better still, I could leave your comment in, and everybody would wonder what the bloody hell your talking about!

  4. Rupert says:

    The thinking man’s Bridget Jones… or should I say, the thinking woman’s…

  5. mad muthas says:

    that’s what comes of going to bed in your nice white trainers

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