I elevated my upper body, using elbows as support, and took a quick look around with my barely functioning eyes. It seemed as if I woke up in a dense forest composed mainly of high pines, with solitary birches growing here and there. There was nothing out of ordinary about the forest. There were trees, and um, forest cover littered with dried and broken branches and pine cones everywhere.
The ground felt a bit damp and my clothes were slightly wet like laundry hanging in the sun for ten minutes. The air was unusually fresh. It must have been raining here not so long ago. I stood up and removed some of the dirt from my clothes. It was just a tip of the iceberg. I looked up to see a jaybird looking at me with a pitiful expression on its cocky bird face. "I don't think I'm at my best look wise. That must have been a rough night," I thought. I haven't had much in terms of last night's events recollection. I decided to try and postpone this issue for the time being. The bird flew away but not before dropping a nice little gift right next to my feet. "Thanks." I said, rather insincerely.
As I was elevating myself to a position that was vaguely similar to the default homo sapiens stance, I felt a surge of pain go through my things and calves. "Whoa," I mumbled as I stumbled onto the nearest tree to stop myself from falling. I hugged the tree like I used to hug a teddy bear when I was a kid.
I didn't drink as much back then, though.
I collected myself after a dozen seconds and proceeded to switch my body to a more distinguish 'hooker-at-a-lamppost' pose. I tried to think how much I would charge for a cheeky handjob, especially with the financial crisis and the ever-weakening dollar, but I had to cast those thoughts away mainly because they were ridiculous. "Come on, man," I reasoned. "If you're not paying for this kinda stuff then you shouldn't charge either. Out of principle. You are a man of principle, aren't you?" There was an awkward silence in my head following that question.
It turned out that attempting to formulate thoughts, however half-witted they were, caused a headache to wake up from its stupor. "Dammit," left my mouth as I grimaced over and over again. "My face will have wrinkles like an old dog's ball sack before I even hit 30 if I keep this up," I thought. My head felt like a wooden plank being nailed to something by a particularly clumsy carpenter.
After a few moments of fighting a losing battle against the pain I went through my pockets to see if I had a phone or at least some painkillers. I had neither of those items which was extremely unfortunate because I had to both contact somebody and get rid of the headache. "Life won't even give me any lemons," I mused philosophically, in what was probably my best moment since waking up on that morning.
Rummaging through pockets didn't yield much in terms of results as I only had spare change in my pants and a piece of baguette in my hoody. My first thought was to buy some water because I was as thirsty as a dry tomato (my face must have looked similar) and also purchase painkillers. Unfortunately, after looking around, checking to be absolutely sure, I was one hundred percent certain there were no shops in my vicinity. It was a forest, after all. I decided to eat the baguette so as not to impair my movements with unnecessary burden. It was stale but it was something. And I was as hungry as a cannibal stranded on an island with no people.
Fueled by those superb nutrients I slowly began to make my way in an unspecified direction. It was there and then that I gathered my first experience in sailing as I was carried and pushed mainly by the wind. Wherever possible I supported myself with trees which I started to consider to be my friends because they were always there for me. "Thanks, trees. You're all invited to my birthday next month. You don't have to bring anything," I said. "There will be a cake and a barbecue and hopefully sun, 'cause that what you trees eat, eh?"
At one point, after wandering aimlessly for some odd twenty minutes, I finally heard something in the distance. I had no idea what it was except that it was a sound. I quickly gathered that there were no other reasonable options but to follow that noise so I began to walk in its general direction. It grew louder and louder and after a few minutes I saw what looked like a huge ball of poo rolled up and left there by a ridiculously large scarab.
The ball of poo started to move. I began approaching it carefully when suddenly I recognized it! That ball of poo was my friend Mark, and the noise he let out was one of his stomach's contents leaving his mouth.
"Mark! Hey, Mark!" I yelled and jogged to him. He somehow managed to pull up his head and looked at me. His face suggested he just left the filming set of a zombie movie after being given a role as an extra. He groaned and growled at me. It freaked me out at first, but as I did not have my sawed-off shotgun with me, I had to try to talk to him.
"You okay, buddy?" I asked as I looked into his red eyes and pale face. I glanced underneath him to see a pool of what was his last night's meal remix that looked like an old, moldy pizza. I hoped he wouldn't fall into it, in case I had to carry him back.
"Wh... huh? R... Rod?" he muttered as his eyes started to register something other than a ground full of vomit. He scratched his head carelessly and with all his strength he flexed his rather wimpy brain muscles and put together a question that pierced right through my mind, placing in doubt my take on philosophy of humanity and existence. "Whe... where is my hat?"
To be continued...