CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
Local bloke Kip Blundstone (26) never thought he’d ever experience a hangover that topped the shopping trolley incident of 2019.
Waking up on the floor of his childhood bedroom underneath a stolen Aldi trolley, that he’d obviously paid two dollars in coins to remove from the rack, is not how anyone would want to get discovered by their 82-year-old grandmother who had popped over to give the little sisters a ride to Sunday church choir.
The fact that he’d lived out of home for three years prior to this also added several more layers of shame to the fact that he’d woken up his whole family dragging the trolley up the stairs onto the second story of the family residence, before passing out at the foot of his old bed, that was now occupied by a Japanese exchange student.
“I never thought it could get worse than that” says Kip, as an invisible Machita drill bores a hole into his skull right above his left ear this afternoon.
But it does get worse than that, as the apprentice diesel fitter learnt today.
He blames an explosive but short-lived interest in European soccer, perhaps a thousands dollars of reckless sportsbetting – and some fucked up bright blue liqueur that his mate Andy reckons they drink in some Asian country he’s visited.
“Yeah, look” he sighs.
“The whole blow-out was really unnecessary”
However, it doesn’t matter whether his unbridled binge drinking and 3AM efforts to replicate his favourite WWE moves were worth it last night. Because the damage is done, as he lies in bed with a case of the grog horrors that could humble even the most free-spirited NRL player.
With his windpipe now compromised by the double-folded pillow that has been jammed behind his cranium to keep his head tilted at an angle that limits his pounding migraine, he tries his very best to drift out of consciousness.
Unfortunately his restless mind won’t allow that. He’s forced to wallow in his sins of last night, with no foreseeable relief from the physical and mental anguish that he knows he deserves.
“Right” he splutters, in between half sips of warm water from a crumpled three-month-old Mount Franklin bottle on his bedside table.
“Time to do something about this”
He reaches for his phone and enters ‘Blonde Lesbians’ into the search bar of his favourite food delivery app.
The search comes up with nothing.
“Ahh for fucks sake” he scowls upon realising he’s just attempted to order a pornographic fetish via a cyclist courier.
He stumbles to the living room and grabs an outdoor picnic chair, and heads to the bathroom.
At time of press, he was heard unfolding the canvas stool inside a roaring shower.
MORE TO COME.
