I woke up on the floor, face down, laying in a pool of something wet and warm. As I struggled to open my eyes I started to recognize a blurry and distorted version of what I’m pretty sure was my office. This is the moment my ears began to detect sounds once again. I was still in too many pieces to be able to put together what I was hearing, it was as if something melodic was playing from somewhere deep in a storm drain. I felt something press against my shoulder, I felt it again only harder. I let out a deep & volcanic moan as I was rolled over and the pushing stopped. Then things began to come more into focus. My eyes became clear enough to make out a set of feet attached to a pair of legs just as they walked out of the door to my office. I couldn’t be positive those legs we connected to some larger body, I wasn’t sure my legs were attached to my body. Any synapses firing were leaving vague impressions of whatever instruction was meant for some imaginary body part. The music from the sewer started to rise toward street level and I could begin to make out the tune. I could definitely remember this was a song I forgot a long time ago. I packed all those moments in a steamer chest and buried them deep inside myself. This song, along with so many memories… memories of a soft almost satin-like cheek resting on my shoulder, the smell of someone’s perfume feeling more intoxicating than the drink in my hand, the light gentle touch of two sets of fingers exploring each other before becoming entwined as their hands hold one another… No! Pain. Sudden pain. All consuming throbbing pain. I was instantly aware of what was happening, it was that old familiar friend, the one you’ve somehow known since childhood and can’t manage to shake. The Hangover… The distant music was all the way inside my brain now, tubthumping it’s way into my subconscious. I get knocked down, and knocked down again, you’re always gonna keep me down. Pissing my life away… pissing my life away. (Pause for music) The trumpet solo is playing clearly through my office floor. It’s natural dreamlike qualities have been replaced with the soul syphoning feeling of nails scraped across a chalkboard. I needed this fucking song out of my head. The top half of my body shot up, my eyes were wide open and burning with a bloodshot intensity. My head whipped around and my eyes struggled to keep up, they scanned the drab depressing office for anything resembling a container for alcohol. My sight locked on to the glint made by the glass bottle as it reflected the sunlight that managed to peek through my blinds. My heart sank when I inspected the bottle more closely. Empty. The song from the floor made its presence known again. “He drinks a whisky drink, he drinks a vodka drink, he drinks a lager drink, he drinks a cider drink, he sings the songs that reminds him of the good times… good times… were there ever any good times? My mind sinks inside itself like a turtle retreating into its shell, I’m beyond embarrassed by the pity party I’ve just thrown for myself. I might be a pathetic piece of human garbage but I’m a piece of garbage that doesn’t need pity from you or me. What I need is a drink and to get this song to stop playing on a loop. Things started falling back into place, I had the sudden thought that even though the rent was cheap, renting office space above a dive bar with a malfunctioning jukebox may have its drawbacks. I needed to get down to the bar, that would solve all my problems. I’d be able to put an end to the endless parade of Chumbawumba and I’d be able to get a drink. What time was it? Were they open? Was anyone even down there, if there was why would they allow this musical torture to continue. I couldn’t spend necessary mental energy thinking about the unknown, if I was gonna survive this I needed to focus on the now and the possible. I tried to stand but my legs had other ideas. They were no where near as sober as my top half was. A drink was out of my immediate future but I could still do something about the music. I fell back on my back and began to pound my fist on the floor. Pounding in rhythm with the singing reminiscent of a pub singalong. I couldn’t help myself any longer and started singing along with the half remembered/ one quarter sober lyrics. My mouth was already dry but I continued to sing until my voice gave out. I don’t know if it was 20 minutes or 20 seconds but suddenly I heard a knock on the floor below me. I knocked three times and below knocked three times back. Someone was down there but the music continued. Who would allow this to happen? What kind of sick monster is just sitting in an empty bar letting the wonder of one hit wonders play endlessly on repeat? Did they know I’d be up here wrestling with the mother and father of all hangovers? Were they doing this to me on purpose? My legs not cooperating with my brain meant standing was out of the question, and crawling to the bar wasn’t an option. I’d never make it that far. Trapped in my current location I did the only thing that made sense. I began to pound my head against the floor. Right away the figment from below started pounding back, both of us in sync with the music. I continued to pound over and over, all the pain in my body focusing like a laser-beam towards the back of my skull. I could feel myself sinking back into the inky dark void. Soon it would be quiet again. Chumbawumba would once again be purged from my life and there would be peace. I kept pounding, each knock pushed me deeper inside myself. I felt the warm wet pool at the back of my head, was I bleeding now? I didn’t care. Silence was soon at hand. The black nothingness had almost completely enveloped me. Deep inside the dark tunnel, the light at the end reduced to a pinhole, I could feel the tether to my body begin to tear, and then with a SNAP! There was quiet, but not the quiet I was expecting. Someone had turned off the music… I crawled out of the inkwell and back to life. Stillness filled the room. I pounded my first on the floor looking for acknowledgement from below but there was no response. I pounded again nothing. I pounded repeatedly until my last bit of energy was spent. My office and the void became one in that moment. I closed my eyes and felt at peace, I thought maybe this is the moment I realize I have a problem, this is gonna be time the last time you wake up drunk on your office floor. Your done with booze. You’re going on the straight and narrow. Then like a thunderclap. Even through the floor, I could make out the distinct sound of the jukebox changing records… (pause for sound effect and music cue)I saw the sign, I opened up my eyes and saw the sign….