He’s not very regal, when he can’t recall, the green luminescent light sparks in equal intervals in the pitch black room, he gets about two seconds of bliss before reality hits him,  he shuffles around and mumbles some anguish to the ghosts that might listen, realising slowly the reek of a over night pizza rotting under him, beer on his shirt and the hardness of his bed.

He’s on the floor his belly forcing it’s way out of his ill fitting large t shirt, he feels as if his body has betrayed him, he tries pulling it in but the stomach does not yield.

Finally after a few minutes he grabs the green flashing lighthouse the screen brightness wakes him up by torching his corneas in hellfire, they look as if bloody rivers flowed on a white plateau

“Fuck” He mutters elegant in his manner.

Echoing rasp laughter ensues from somewhere in the room.

The message “How drunk where you!” stares back at him he feels his jaw clench, the brow tighten and the sparks of regret fire up in the amygdala like tiny worms travelling in his head, less so now than the first time, he can’t even remember the first time.

Delete all messages, pizza grease distorts the screen, amputate the mistakes that seems to sprout a better yield of misery each harvest, why not, better that way, time for him to go MIA.

Muttered thoughts poke his brain in the fogginess that are usual in hangovers of this magnitude, moving to China for noodle lessons and teaching English is one of the better ones.

He says the word “mian” a few times to feel how it rolls off the tongue, miaaan, it means noodle.

He almost buys a ticket, noticing a visa is required, cold sweats push through the pores in his neck, he buckles under the minimal pressure, there is no way he could leave the comfort of his non confronting life.

A familiar burn begins in the back of his throat, he hurriedly gulps a cup of baking soda and water causing a minute coughing fit, a dark lanky figure lays back on the grey wall and stares at him from the corner with a smile so immense it envelops most of his face, teeth white as porcelain, eyes red, emitting no light. He smiles back

“ So George, we wen’t on a ride yesterday did we ? “.

The eyes turn to him without considerable feeling. The smile fades and he begins, his mouth twisting about as if the voice came a few seconds late, akin to old chinese movies with appalling dubs .

“ Well a ride is not what I would declare it as you placed your greasy body on the couch and begun to devour a bag of chips and a bottle of vodka, so I improvised, waited until you cognitive processes were hindered enough for me to cozily canter in and steer the ship towards the phone, order some extra cheese pizzas. After I begun to type a few hasty love notes to your “friends” god knows you don’t have many anymore and spilled the beans so to say”

He rubs his temples counter clockwise.

“ So your plan is to break my pelvis?”

The dark lanky figure akin to a dark fog floats above him and repeatedly pokes at his body and laughs.

“ You couldn’t fuck anything alive anyway, you could only reproduce if they somehow invented a replication machine and even that would probably malfunction, i’m getting bored Jack, you can hit a broken down piece of garbage a finite number of times, I have a plan for us old buddy, old Jack”

A plan, Jack feels a cold shiver creep casually upwards his spine,  he thinks of quitting alcohol finally, a gym membership perhaps.

“ You should try it Jackie-O, but you are a fucking mess, i’m your only company and you created me in that distressed little almond of a brain, you do understand you are coo coo don’t you”

George mutters, the coffee machine starts rattling energetically to alert the caffeine addict black goo is to be served, Jack does not remember putting the coffee machine on, he still sits in his bed uneasy staring at George who seems to be doing a 60s dance to some music he can’t hear, the one Michael Madsen performed in Resevoir Dogs before cutting the police officers ear.