"Blinding, bright white light," Joe muttered, "make it stop!"
The familiar, groggy, 'I didn't sleep at all, last night' feeling flooded Joe's brain cells. He tried to shutter off the light by laying his forearm across his eyes. As he moved his arm, a motion which seemed to take forever to execute, a nagging question began forming in his mind - something on the order of "Where the hell is that bright light coming from, anyway?"
It was a good question, some detached part of his conciousness yelled. After all, your room has no eastern facing windows!....
Joe snapped fully awake after a moment of confusion spawned by the realization that his arm was laying over his eyes.
He sat up in bed and looked around his immediate surroundings, wondering aloud why everything looked its normal, everyday way. He could have sworn that he had just been awaken by a strange bright light.
Groaning from his normal Sunday morning hangover, he attempted to get out of bed - or rather, he did get out of bed - or at least his feet did, but then they quickly recoiled from the floor - or lack thereof. Water. Cold water. No floor, just cold water.
"For crying out loud already! What in hell is going on here? Hella hangover....."
He peered down to the floor for lack of any better ideas. There was the normal, everyday floor. No water.
Smearing his hands on his face, as if to wipe away some evil presence, or, more likely, in emulation of Curly from the Three Stooges, Joe made a "blubb blubb blubb" sound.
"Never. Never again will I drink Bob's Bombastic 80 Proof gin. Never!"
He decided to lay down again for a few minutes, just to see if his throbbing head would lessen to somewhat of a smaller pounding. However, when his head hit the pillow, the pillow had somehow managed to turn itself into a pile of gelatin. He grimaced as his head wobbled and jiggled along with the somewhat strawberry smelling gelatin.
It then struck Joe that, had he not had a mangling hangover just now, this would all pretty much just freak him out. He made a mental note to mention to someone that, should they decide to go crazy, one cure might be a gin hangover. As he reached for a pen and paper on his nightstand to make a more concrete note, he fell not only out of bed, but also out of his room, out of his house and landed on a nice, spongy pile of moss.
