Woke up this morning, wondering if a couple moths had napped in my mouth during the night. Or perhaps I had dry gulch from that fifth of bourbon I poured down my throat prior to partaking to the act of sleeping.

There was a note on the pillow that was adjacent to mine. I couldn't figure out what it said due to the fuzzyness in my head. 'I'm outta here, A......!' Blaah, blaah, blaah. I was quite surprised because I didn't know Burt could write, but the paw print he left on the stationary was proof of that. I knew the mutt was smart but...

I crawled outta the sack, went to the kitchen sink to soak my head and got another surprise. Burt was laying there by his feeding bowl. He hadn't left me after all. He looked up, growled, and slid back into the comma he had been rolling in and out of for the past couple days. I guess being chucked around by a tornado can do that to yah.

After soaking me noggin, the cobwebs began to dissolve. I remembered some skinny broad being here when I passed out. Her name was Dorothy Oz from Kansas or some other American city with the same name. She must have written that piece of literature that kept me company through the night. My hound wasn't so smart after all. What a shame.

I threw my trousers on. Left leg, in right hole, spun around trying to insert the other leg into the left hole and hit the floor, landing on my rump. Surprisingly enough this jarred a few more haze balls from that melon of mine. I gave me bean a couple shakes but still a film of stupidity hung onto my brain.

After the trousers were in place, with the zipper in the front, as it should be, I ventured back to the kitchen for a cup of joe. I whipped open the upper cabinet where the rancid granules were stored and banged my skull with the door.

This was going to be one of those days. I could tell.

The aroma from the percolator awoke my sinuses. This left my face looking asleep and my nose awake. Man! And I had to go to work. Nothing like preparing for work with a wide awake nose, a sleeping face, and monster of a spider crawling up your leg.

My screaming caused ole Burt to stir from his slumber. Seeing the creature spinning a web between my legs caused my faithful companion to spring into action. His aim was a little high and he crunched down on my testes. Believe me, that removed all the traces of cobwebs from my mullet- capped- scalp.

After a couple minutes of shallow breathing, I recovered, fed me pooch, and headed to the West Wing where my job as... You figure it out.