Zero Hour

WHAT a bump! The bed must have hit an air pocket. This bed seems to buck and whirl like an old War I Jennie in a line storm. Boy, are my nerves shot. . .my fingers and toes, even my shoulders are tingling. My nerves are writhing and twitching like a can of worms in a bonfire.

Why, oh why, would anyone in their right mind get drunk on a hot day like yesterday? What a day! What a night! Where did I go? Who was I with? How did I get home? When did I get home? How did I get in? Is there any money left? . . . I'm sweating. I feel like I'm lying in a bowl of hot, greasy soup.

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