breakfast has gone to shit

This morning I came home to a telling sight of beer cans, wine bottles, champagne bottles, and a sighting of bourbon. As filthy as it might have been it was not unexpected or strange. What was strange was walking into the bathroom to see half a bowl of cheerios in the toilet. Being 6 days hung over and 7 days drunk I of course had to make a double take on the sight which I almost passed over. Seeing a sea of cheerios floating in the shitter is just not something you can be prepared for. After I realized that I was in fact not delusional (at least not in that moment) I began pondering how they had come to reside in my bathroom bowl. Had someone run out of milk and decided it just made more sense to poor the cheerios into the jon and eat them out of that? An appalling image, but I was in no position to rule out possibilities. Perhaps someone had thrown them up. In all honesty that was my first thought, but then when I inspected closer (this was something I couldn’t take a chance on being uncertain of) I clearly saw that the cheerios were all fully shaped and most definitely unregurgitated. Well damn, had someone just senselessly decided to pour away these bronze honey nuts into a drain of defecation? That just didn’t register in my mind. I decided the best thing to do would be to grab a beer and gather my thoughts. A beer at 11 in the morning is no simple task, that is unless your fridge is stocked full of them in which case it is a childishly simple task. The cold beer tasted just like the 10 I had imbibed only hours before. I’ve recently become enthralled with the beauty of drinking through the hang over but that’s another story altogether and its dismissing the central issue: cheerios in my toilet. These little bastards were screwing with me. Maybe they had gotten there themselves. Dancing out of the box and jumping along the wood floor into my bathroom. Maybe they just wanted a swim. I imagine a toilet bowl would present itself as an enticing swimming pool to these little fuckers. They were playing mind games with me, I knew it. Still though, I couldn’t force myself to just flush them away. That’s exactly what they wanted. No I wouldn’t destroy the evidence or grant them asylum in the sewers of Manhattan. I’d scoop them up with my own hands if I had to. What was I saying? Jesus these were just cheerios; I ate them damned near every day. If anything they were friends. Christ, maybe they were in trouble. Could they swim? What if they were drowning? Ok, I had definitely had too much to drink the last week; and when had I slept? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t even remember the last time I had spent a night in my bed; not to say that I was out sleeping around mainly because I wasn’t sleeping wherever I ended up either. I had to check again, were they still there? Just then I heard the toilet bowl flushing. “Noooooooo” I screamed as I sprinted to the bathroom. But it was too late, they were gone, that is if they were even there in first place. Just cheerios in the toilet.

This entry is dedicated to alcohol and sleep deprivation without which I would not have been insane enough to concoct this piece.