Its way too early in the morning and he can't quite work out why he's alone. But alone he is and he's fucked.
He's bent kind of double listening to music, he's text all his mate's but he's the only one up.
He's drunk all the vodka and the only thing left is a selection of liquers. Try as he might, he can't face it. He knows that this is not the way to amaretto.
So he sits tail twitching. testy as a tarantula with all its legs cut off. There's no catnip left, he's taken it all. All there is is the come down, the being alone with nothing to drink, wired and wide awake.
He can't get no sleep.
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