Post by Hideous Dwarf on Aug 2, 2008 19:32:32 GMT
I posted that other short short (The Name of the Dog) on the site where we were discussing naming a dog ofter Guy Gibson's, and another poster challenged me to write a 250 word short with the above title. I just can't refuse a challenge.
The Hair of the Dog
“Ohrrrnn. urghhh. Oh God!” He rubbed his hands down the front of his trousers, spreading the mess more evenly. It was all over the steering wheel. The dash board. “What the hell did I drink last... urrrgghhh.”
“ And where’s that sanguineous Jess? What d’he run off for. Oh God!”
He blinked painfully through driver’s window. “What... where’s the... Oh Christ!” He was parked on the lawn. At least it was his own lawn. Was it?... Oh, yeah. That’s her maple... was her maple tree. The gate post still clung stubbornly to the front bumper and yards of chain-link stretched back.... back to... somewhere. “Where the hell’s that sanguineous... God, I need a drink – hair of the whatever.
The bottle was on the seat. “God, that’s better.”
The stomach rebelled and settled, rebelled and settled, like the tide flowing in and out, in and out... “Oh no, don’t think of that. Get out... check the car. Oh God!”
He tumbled out, sprawling over the chain-link in another flood of vomit, rolled clear and began to crawl.
The front of the car was almost buried in wire and bits of tree. The fence post came away bringing most of the detritus with it. What a sanguineous mess. “She’ll go spare. Oh Christ! What the hell’s that?” He reached down through the chain and foliage, closing his fingers on the little knot of red cloth trapped in the front bumper. No, not cloth... hair.
“Oh dear God!”
The Hair of the Dog
“Ohrrrnn. urghhh. Oh God!” He rubbed his hands down the front of his trousers, spreading the mess more evenly. It was all over the steering wheel. The dash board. “What the hell did I drink last... urrrgghhh.”
“ And where’s that sanguineous Jess? What d’he run off for. Oh God!”
He blinked painfully through driver’s window. “What... where’s the... Oh Christ!” He was parked on the lawn. At least it was his own lawn. Was it?... Oh, yeah. That’s her maple... was her maple tree. The gate post still clung stubbornly to the front bumper and yards of chain-link stretched back.... back to... somewhere. “Where the hell’s that sanguineous... God, I need a drink – hair of the whatever.
The bottle was on the seat. “God, that’s better.”
The stomach rebelled and settled, rebelled and settled, like the tide flowing in and out, in and out... “Oh no, don’t think of that. Get out... check the car. Oh God!”
He tumbled out, sprawling over the chain-link in another flood of vomit, rolled clear and began to crawl.
The front of the car was almost buried in wire and bits of tree. The fence post came away bringing most of the detritus with it. What a sanguineous mess. “She’ll go spare. Oh Christ! What the hell’s that?” He reached down through the chain and foliage, closing his fingers on the little knot of red cloth trapped in the front bumper. No, not cloth... hair.
“Oh dear God!”