- …..he struggled out of bed in the morning with exaggerated effort. He had barely slept two winks the night prior, his left shoulder was killing him, overall he felt like shit half-rewarmed only it’s impossible to conceive shit could ever feel so depressed and despondent and abused, and he was then left wondering what to do? Yes, what course of action can and should one pursue when feeling so ungodly miserable at such an infantile hour? And, after but a few seconds of intense contemplation, he realized there was only a single thing he could do in that dolorous situation: He thusly went and sought out his favorite recliner and carefully contorted his body into a delicate position where–Can you fuckin’ believe this?!–his left shoulder stretching down through the biceps didn’t actually ache throbbingly like the Second Coming of Lucifer. Thereafter, in not too great a length of time, he drifted off into a somewhat fitful sleep–wholly unlike the night previous–intent on waking up from this small slumbering respite marginally recharged from a physical standpoint, in better spirits (Realistically, they couldn’t have been any worse!), and ready–No, eager!–to face the still basically new day sitting before him like a luscious ripe plum…..
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Fred's Soapbox 