This Weekend

Holding on is no longer an option, I have let go and have started tumbling down the road that few have ever returned from. There is a blinding light up ahead. The closer I get, the faster I tumble, until I'm just a whirling blurring giggling mass of babbling madness. It didn't have to end this way, no sir, this wasn't suppose to be. Or maybe its just my mind playing tricks on me again, my head feels like a giant pumpkin and I'm having trouble with reality. I didn't have my afternoon coffee yesterday and had coffee dreams all night. I woke up this morning in my hotel with a baby migraine brewing. I couldn't get the hotel phone to bring me coffee, and my wife wouldn't go get me some. She called me the Doctor of Selfishness, the bitch. I didn't want to eat, I just wanted coffee, but I knew the restaurant downstairs would have coffee. I wept freely to myself at the lovely aroma of my coffee, I gave my cup a tiny kiss when no one was looking. I wanted bacon and eggs, but for some reason, like a myna bird I ordered what my wife ordered. I was still too focused on my cup of goodness to be thinking straight. How bad could eggs Benedick be anyway? Well for starters, for the first time in human history, they put spinach in it. In my head, I pounded the food, plates, table and my wife, into a fine powder. Then I scraped the wretched weed from my food and ate. Spinach indeed!