The Hangover and the Sword

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The Hangover and the Sword

(or The Sugar-Induced Ramblings of That Weird Naked Kid with the Bowler-Hat Who Wrote a Series for the Post About Redemption and Sheds That Were Professors of Semiotics By Day but Drinkers by Night, and All That Other Stuff That Didn't Make Too Much Sense at the Time and There's No Promise That They Will Become Miraculously Vaguely Coherent Today Either)


A hangover (kills) more than a sword does.

Casaubon blinked a few times. At first he couldn't quite remember where he was. And then it all came back to him at once. He was exactly where he always found himself in the morning; lying in his bed. And yet, something was wrong.

He rolled over to the other side of the bed.

Well, that's what was wrong.

Casaubon, you see, had been unhappily married for five of the most painstaking years of his life to a woman by the name of Cindel. Casaubon always referred to her as Grendel. They'd met in college; Casaubon was the salutatorian of his class, and Cindel's father was the dean, a very well-to-do individual who had made it big in real estate but had decided after his early retirement at the age of thirty-four to become involved with post-high school private education. Cindel's father had taken a liking to Casaubon immediately for whatever reasons Casaubon could never fully understand. Casaubon had always regarded himself as the type of person that was doomed to die alone without achieving much. He did his work but took no pleasure from it and really had no drive. But he always did his work and he managed to get straight A's. As nice a guy as he was, he didn't really think of himself as the most charismatic of individuals either. Nevertheless, Cindel's father introduced Cindel to Casaubon, and after the two had made one anothers' acquaintance, he arranged for the wedding.

So Cindel and Casaubon were wed. They went honeymooning at Versailles and it wasn't as if they merely stayed at a hotel outside of Versailles and made a pilgrimage to the beautiful palace. Nay, their accommodation was the very sleeping chamber of Louis XIV. Of course, fully funded by none other than Cindel's father.

Cindel herself was ridiculously gorgeous. Yet, as Casaubon would soon find out, she was one of the ugliest people he'd ever meet. She had the most repulsively uncompassionate personalities ever. Her thoughts revolved around her gossip, cocktail parties, schmoosing, and belittling those who didn't have what she had. The numbers in that category of those who didn't have what she had were pretty high and she took pleasure in watching them suffer.

So Casaubon had rolled over to the other side of the bed, and as has been established, this is what was wrong. For, had Cindel been there beside him in the bed, he would have surely rolled atop her.

'Um.' Casaubon said.

He sat upright to find that, besides his dog Dogmeat who was running around in circles chasing his tail in the middle of the bedroom, he was completely alone. The shades were drawn and Casaubon's continual fascination with the weather led him to get off the bed, walk across the room, and open the shade to find the outside world covered in what looked like three feet of snow.

Casaubon grinned like a madman or rather, a child as he or she learns that due to the snow, there would be no school that day. All his inquiries about the whereabouts of his wife vanished entirely from his train of thought. For though Casaubon was a grown man, he took pleasure in the same things in life that he had when he was just a kid. He danced down the hall, past the guest bedrooms, the study, the library, and the upstairs kitchen, then descended down the grand staircase in the most suave of manners, and proceeded to the main hall.

Upon entering the hall, he caught sight of a yellow piece of paper taped to the front door. He remembered that his wife was missing, ran for the paper, and grabbed it.

It read:

You're the most pathetic excuse for a husband a woman of such wealth and prestige such as myself could ever ask for.

There is another man in my life who is willing to buy me whatever I want whenever I want because he LOVES me.'

'Oh, and I took the Bentley.


Casaubon didn't know what to do at first. A few moments passed, but Casaubon knew in his heart exactly what he should do next. He heel-clicked and ran to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. He was going to have a feast.

To be continued...

Yossarian Prefect

31.01.02. Front Page

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