Hungover

I write this blog entry still suffering from a hangover caused by drinking Theakston’s Old Peculiar and a bottle of red wine. It’s a horrible feeling in my stomach, a kind of dull ache with fizzy explosions now and then causing me to gag for a few moments. In a lame attempt to appease this feeling I kind of lay at a strange angle on my bed, the top half of me is on its side while the bottom part is laying flat and pointing to the ceiling. I keep tricking myself into thinking that by doing this the nauseating bubbling coming from the depths of my stomach will stop. It doesn’t. And I eventually get back ache and move causing me to gag a bit more and throw the pillow over my head and give a groan similar to the one when I’ve got ‘man flu’. Usually when feeling like this I just go to the bathroom, kneel down, stick two fingers down my throat and inhale the pleasantries that the U-bend has to offer me. But I don’t feel like it, the vomiting I find tolerable it’s after everything has been regurgitated and all that’s left is the bright yellow, ear wax tasting stomach bile that puts me off. It freaks me out and every time I taste it a little part of me is mentally scared. So instead I queasily try to ride it out and think of things to stop me thinking about sick. Which leads me to the second part of my blog.

I was going through my photos on my mobile and I forgot to mention I saw this the other week when I was out for a walk at lunch. It really brightened up my day for a few moments, knowing there were some folks out there that have a sense of humour. But the pleasant feeling turned into a slight worry that Ol’ Greg might be lurking under that bridge like a troll waiting to pounce. I really didn’t fancy checking out his “manjina” so turned right around and headed back.

This guy also cracks me up too.

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Charles walks into the room to see Gregor sitting at the end of the table bearing his teeth as means of greeting. On his left sits Davy. Charles gingerly steps forward assuming he is allowed because of the bearing of the teeth by Gregor.

“Hello Charlie, wasn’t sure if you was going to turn up on time but you proved us wrong.” Said Gregor leaning back on his chair.

The room is dark except for the lamp shade in the corner which only gives enough illumination to make out who is sitting next to you. It’s also quite bare expect for the table in the middle where they all sit and the little table in the corner where the lamp is rested. Charles doesn’t like this meeting room, it’s too sinister and extenuation of Gregor’s psyche, he thinks of the converted garage. No one can really think clearly in here, certainly not him and he feels that’s the way Gregor likes it. The only one who enjoys and flourishes in this damp dark environment is the teeth barer.

“Right gentlemen, I have a new project. I’ve done some ground work but I think we all need to do some research to ensure it’s a success.”

“What is it?” Asked Davy quickly.

“Well Davy, I want us to rob the garage off Cavendish street.”

“Fucking hell. You’re nuts, we’ve tried armed robbery we’re no good at it.” Says Charles rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead to ease the sudden shock of Gregor’s plan.

“We would have gone through with it if it wasn’t for incompetence. Besides this is going to be a lot easier. A bank. Bloody hell what was I thinking. But a garage, a garage that is run by a boy and a middle aged mum, should be easy. I think there should be a safe and at least a four grand each for us to share.”

There was a silence. The audacity of the idea had spread doubt into everyone’s mind. The chances of being caught are high and the time in jail long. However, the thought of earning that amount of money on just one job had them all staring at Gregor intently.