Stench

It smells of rotting corpse. Of old rotting corpse. Is this a graveyard? Where the hell am I? Oh, shit. Not again. See, I drank too much and wound up here, but where here? Look around, drink water, two aspirin, it'll be ok. Goddamn it. What is that smell? Did I soil myself again? No, smells worse than that. It's dark, which means it's either early morning, evening, or the middle of the fucking night. It smells like rotting corpse. Calm down. Remember the magic staff. Maybe there's something I can hear that would help me. The sound of crickets. Great. That's going to tell me a lot. Crickets are everywhere. There's the taste of puke. That must be from drinking and barfing. Doesn't help me at all. Son-of-a-bitch.  

I try standing, but get something like vertigo, but not vertigo. It's like I'm hung over, but . . . no wait. I am hung over. Motherfucker. Where am I and where's water? Wait. I feel it. Drip, drip, drip. It's water from sky. I lay on my back and let it enter my mouth to sober my sorry ass up. Then, the water starts coming into mouth harder and I drink, swallow, drink, swallow, and then the water starts hard and hurts skin. Then, electricity dances through air. It's beautiful. It's like those toys we had with the bubble and anywhere you put your hand, the electricity wemt. Then, I remember I need shelter even though the gods are giving me “vital life juice” or else trees will fall on me and I'll die, just like the crushed cars those dumb ass shows at the IX center where monster trucks smash small cars. Who cares?  

Then, I get up on knees, get to feet and wabble to . .. what? Where? I don't know. Hell, can't even tell which way is west since it's night, unless I'm in Alaska, then it could be any time. Fuck. Feel in my pocket and there's my cellphone and it's dry, kind of, so I push the on button, but nothing happens. I push longer and harder and there's nothing. Then, I see a battery on the screen with a flashing red near the bottom. Fuck. Has to be charged. Damn it. I feel in my other pocket and there's no phone charger. It's at home? Where am I in relation to home? Or am I homeless again? Motherfucker, have to call 211 again. Cell phone's dead. Maybe my ex is back together with me and I can sleep with her or sleep at her place on the couch or floor or something. Fuck. Smells like bad smell is burning. Forest fire? Wait, it's still dark, so if it's dark, where's the fire and gods should exterminate with “vital life juice”. I get up like the Leaning Tower of Pisa or get up and feel like Tower of Pisa. Am I in Pisa? “I'm on a plain. I can't complain.” Flat. Grass and not the kind I can smoke. Unmowed likeEden. Am I “In a goddadavida”? I get drunk from gas stations, bars, grocery stores, not the middle of fucking no where. There's no drugs on plains. Don't even see any animals. Remember video of rain on plain, so I start digging so I won't be the tall thing lightning hits and the rain starts filling the hole quick, so I bail the hole, but it keeps filling. Motherfucker. What would MacGuiver do. He's build an aeroplane out of grass of something, but I take my dead cell phone out of my pant's pocket, hold it in my left hand and go in. It's cold and I shiver in the juice, like a dog scared of thunder and I'm scared of lighting and frostbite. My digits numb, not good. So, I get out and run like a mother who's lost their child but doesn't know which way their child is, but knows they have to find their child or their child will die, except I'm the child and I start to feel the headache coming on from the hangover. Fuck. Wish I couldn't feel my head instead of my digits. Motherfucker.  

Maybe somebody forgot the rules of Boyscouts, always put stones around a fire and always terminate the fire before you leave camp. Maybe they have a fire or tent I could shelter by and in? Maybe. “Right, and maybe the toilet paper fairy will bring me some nice fresh toilet paper.” WWJD. He'd tell the storm to calm down. Calm down storm. I wait. Nothing happens or the same thing keeps happening. I'm fucked, in a bad way. So, I do what any hungover drunk would do, I scream at the top of my lungs for help and listen to the crickets. Maybe the fucking crickets can help me. If only I spoke cricket.  

Like the thunder, my stomach starts growling. Damn it. When did I eat last or drink last? Where was I last night? If I can remember where I was, maybe I can figure out where I am and get the fucking hell back to civilization or maybe a half-way house or another AA meeting. Get some warm coffee and aspirin. I'm thirsty and need the bathroom at the same time. Remember, sailor's warning. “Pink sky at night, sailor's delight. Pink sky in morning, sailor's take warning.” No, wait. That's the wrong one. “All surrounded by water with nothing to drink,” or “Don't piss where you drink,” or something like that. Headaches getting worse. Damn it.  

Then, I see it, a beaver. No, not that kind of beaver, the animal beaver. So, that means there's woods near by, since beavers build dams and wood comes from trees. But, bars, gas stations, and grocery stores are in cities. Damn I wish my cell phone was working. I take it out and relieve myself and put it back in. Hell, animals piss in nature, why not me? So, I walk in “one direction,” and don't know which direction: “Never eat sour worms” or dry beavers. Why would anyone want sour gummies. If it sobered me up, right now, I'd eat anything. So I make like a bull and start eating grass, but it smells like pesticides, so I spit it out. Why would there be pesticides in the middle of fucking no where? Maybe this is a farm or a park. Damn it. Should've charged my fucking phone.  I scream again and hear crickets. Goddamn it.   Why me? Maybe I should have completed the steps, gone on the wagon. Where the fuck am I? I scream hello into the air and hear crickets. I swear. Then, I see something non-animal come up through the dirt. Hopefully, it's a human. Please God.