Luckily, it’s not from a cold or COVID or strep or whatever.

It’s from fucking potato chips.

I know better than to eat those things, because no matter how delicious, their deep fried goodness makes the bile in my throat as I sleep, causing me to rush to the washroom, down half a dozen or more Gaviscon and a couple of gallons of water, none of which staves off the dry tickle that will now relentlessly haunt me for the rest of the night.

So, here I am, again, sleep-deprived, coughing, wondering why the world won’t let me sleep.

Oh, right, potato chips.

Yeah.

I did this one to myself.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2432 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Uncertainty: Turning Fear And Doubt Into Fuel For Brilliance, Jonathan Fields
Comics: The Boys 29-30, The Boys: Herogasm 1-2
Music: The Next Day, David Bowie