Escape From Memphis–Chapter Two

So I woke up the next day, around the crack of noon.

No hangover.

Alcoholics do not suffer hangovers.

We are immune.

We do, however suffer other, potentially more serious maladies:

Delirium tremens

Panic attacks.

Disgusting  bouts of vomiting.


Liver damage.

Irrevocably lost friendships.

Broken marriages.

Broken lives.

Saying “I’m sorry,” ten thousand times—never takes–but say it anyway.

I could go on, but I’d like to finish this post sometime today.

I had no hangover, but it did not take me long to realize I had something else going on:

A pain work me up, tapped upon my shoulder, and said,

“Guess what? Asshole? You’re fucked; We have you now.”

A pain in my abdomen which caught my undivided attention straight – away.

And it wasn’t playin’.

It was not nothing nice,

I have never experienced pain such as this.


I tried to self-medicate with Jim Beam.

Tried that for a couple of hours.

No dice.

This was some serious vile shit.

And not nothin’ nice.

My undying (no pun), thought was that my appendix had burst. And I did not want to go out like Houdini.

(Google Him).

Finally gave up and dialed 911.

“Nine-One-One, what is your emergency?”

“I have ‘Houdini.’”

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“I think my appendix has burst. And oh, as an added bonus, probably at this point, alcohol poisoning.”

“Where are you, Sir?

“In hell.”

“Sir, an address?”

“Magnuson Hotel, some room.”

“Your name, Sir?


 “Ok, I am dispatching EMT now. Stay put.”

(Really, ‘stay put?’ I cannot even walk, the pain is so fucking bad, on top of the half-fifth of self-medication I had administered.)

“Sure, I’ll stay put. Please tell the EMT not to take their time; I am dyin’ up in here.”

I could not have known at the time, but this was to be but the first of three and a half trips I would take to the Commerce ER.

Chapter Three Coming Soon. Look for it if you dare.

“Between the Lines of Photographs, I’ve Seen The Past; It isn’t Pleasing.”


Chapter One To Be Found Here

Part tree (Pecan) to be found here,

Happier Times For Kris and Rita:

7 thoughts on “Escape From Memphis–Chapter Two

  1. Janis Ian is a Treasure. I once had some chat with her on FB, trying to tell her how much I admired her work. I said something stupid and she banned me from her page. Go figure. Story of my Life.
    Ha ha ah ha!
    Thank you for visiting and for your comments.

  2. Pingback: Escape From Memphis–Chapter One | Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics

  3. Pingback: Escape From Memphis—Chapter Three—Shawn. | Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics

  4. Pingback: Escape From Memphis–Chapter Ten: Psychiatrist Interrogation | Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics

  5. My Gawd am outbreak of Houdini so straitjackets are pretty much useless. I laugh out loud when I read that waking up the Missus and dog. That whole conversation was funny as shit. I am witnes to your growth as a writer. The alcoholic symptoms are hysterical but tragicc maybe pathos. You have sucked the reader into your world of Bukowski visits Peckerwood Creek. We must have more sir.

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