The Morning After...

The very first thing that wakes you up is the thumping headache. While you are trying to deal with the same, you tend to look around so as to figure out how you landed where you presently are! As the brain fights to function and make sense of things around you, the head again begs for relief. You want to sleep more but the world just keeps on spinning. The stomach is crying for food but the esophagus threatens to give away whatever undigested solid, liquid or even air it has stored in it since the stomach refused to keep it with itself; this makes you re-consider the plans to look for food. You bitch about the fuckin' headache to yourself! Again you take a look around, this time to register all the people lying around you or awake around you in the same physical state with the same problem (you HOPE). You exchange a quick "good morning" to the helpers and the helped, as well as the useless others and then bitch about the fuckin' headache! Then you look at the torn pants that you are wearing and recall the 2-second fight that had happened the night before, then your thigh hurts. It reminds you of the "graceless fall" which had left your thigh in a horrible pain even in that numb situation. You fail to recollect the hands that had then helped you to your feet. Once again you bitch about the fuckin' headache which makes the pain in the thigh as good as non-existent. A quick look at the once-upon-a-time black t-shirt and you wish they'd used a good quality paint to paint the stairway and the terrace! After you've had bitched about the fuckin' headache, you stumble to your feet as you decide to march down the terrace, before you crash to the ground a pair of helping hands break your fall. Then you and your friend-in-need proceed to the house. On the way you tend to bitch about the fuckin' headache a couple of times more! You change the pants, thank God that he gave you the mind to change into your friend's dad's shorts in time, thus, keeping your pants safe; but the moment you start feeling proud of yourself and think of dancing a quick victory dance, a new friend enters the room bitching about the same ol' fuckin' headache. Finally you collect your cell, find some 5 missed calls and zillion SMSes, you first dial the concerned mother telling her you have just woken up and are now leaving for home, then you go on to check the weird "replies" to the alleged SMSes you'd sent during the night. Most of the SMSes express concern and hugs and while you try to figure out the mystery behind these, there are a few others telling you to kindly take a hike for waking the senders in the middle of the night with some nonsensical apology. You now type in a sensible apology to all. After dealing with the mysterious allegations you wake "the sober one" and ask him for details. But "the sober one" acts selfish and looks a bit pissed for waking him up, you simply swear at him and leave for your house. But you do turn around once and bitch about the fuckin' headache. Then you start your bike, go to a tea-stall, have a cup of nice hot tea to get rid of the fuckin' headache (the failure of the attempt being guaranteed from your previous experience, but that won't stop you from trying it one more time) and now head for home. On reaching, you first head to the loo and spend some peaceful 20 minutes there; on coming out you go on to brush your teeth to take care of smelly give-aways. Then your mom offers you tea. As you gulp it down, she asks for breakfast, the esophagus again shoots warnings, you kindly refuse.

In order to avoid the raising of any sort of suspicions, you act as you normally would on a normal sober day, so you switch on the computer and close your room. You keep bitching about the fuckin' headache for half an hour till you can't take it anymore and tell your mom that you've been up all night and now you need to sleep, your mother gives you the "I know what you were upto" look but the good mother that she is, doesn't say a word and tells you to get some rest. You crash on the bed and the world around you starts spinning again. The stomach doesn't stop churning either. Its keeps crying to throw up all that it has in store but you just don't want to do it. You fail to fall asleep thanks to the fuckin' headache. But after a few horrible moments you do get lost in a deep deep slumber and only a 7th call for lunch wakes you up. You realize your stomach doesn't even have air left in it and so you hog on the lunch as if there is no tomorrow. You again head off to sleep. A nice nap later you realize the head is aching less but the stomach is still churning. Though the physical state has quite improved now, the mental shock as to what your dearest of pals made you drink the other night still disturbs you. But your concern for them makes you call them to know their physical et mental state and you are happy to find them suffering similar problems. Then at the end of the day, everyone takes the oath to never ever touch the cursed happy potion again. An unanimous "amen" later the Almighty forgives us and cures us of the fuckin' headache!