Werther's Original

I’m having a tough go with sleeping, even though the exhaustion has set in like gangbusters. What the fuck is a gangbuster, some somnambulist with rickets, a narcoleptic miscreant with a horrible overbite. This not being able to sleep, anti-narcolepsy, some might say, fuckers! might have its good points, the least of which is being conscious for a sunrise or having that first espresso in a weatherglass, fuck. CBC-2 has promised me an early morning of Mahler, a 5th I’d do me just fine right about now, or a brisk walk with my Waterford’s weatherglass topped off with frothy espresso. Werther’s original, a blunderbuss sawed off at the armrest-end pointed directly at the ear-jaw juncture, just below the eye and above the temple. Teutonic cry-baby should have had the good manners to lay out a Rubbermaid mat or a tarpaulin before he messed up the front lawn, sad pathetic whist.