Head slumped:  heavy, ringing.  In the distance a **** whacker is constant.  If it's real, I can't tell anymore. This is me now, tomorrow I'll be straight.  Except that it is tomorrow, and everyone knows it but my ******* brain that plays on like a skipping record!  Ah! ****!  People pass by like flies, living at a different speed.  I coulda taken them all on last night but for now I need strength.  Food or *****, what's it gonna be?  The clerks know the game.  They see them stumble in at night ready to swallow the world whole, and in the morning, when cigarettes are their only friend.  Clerks stay straight to watch the show, to feel good about what they got.  They can keep it, though, gimme ***** for now.
"Is that all?", his voice echoed
"What?", "Yeah, that's all, what else would I get?"
"I don't know.  Food, maybe."
I looked the guy square in the eyes for a good six seconds.  His eyes were wide getting wider, he could feel the tension.  All I could feel was the hangover.
"No, just beer."
I looked down at the 12-pack, then at the manager walking towards us.
"Alright, I see the score."
As I left through the automatic doors the day broke my eyes in two with a sharp piercing ray, and it began ---
another one.