Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, head pounding, last night was a dim recollection. How did he get home? Was he alone? Looking to the left and right, the answer was yes, maybe. His head was full of 'rag water, bitters, and blue misery'*. His teeth felt like he'd been chewing aluminum and his breath smelled like a burning tractor tire. There was a wrenching knot somewhere between his liver and East St. Louis and he couldn't be sure whether or not he'd wet himself. A yellow sine wave rang in his ears so loud it made his teeth itch and he was sure that if he touched his skin anywhere it would induce a rhythmic wretching jag. If all that weren't bad enough, he found himself smiling at the realization that there was still one warm, half-empty, flat, Hairy Eyeball on the nightstand. Yes - There is a God.