Aftermath

It was the morning after their truncated appearance on Saturday Night Live.

He had the mother of all hangovers. His mouth tasted like the inside of a toilet. Light hurt.

He stumbled through the afternoon, delaying opening his computer until he could no longer avoid the inevitable; he had mail.

The seventh message was from him. Crap.

Reluctantly opening it he saw four words.

Four understated words.

Four seemingly harmless words.

‘Don’t do it again’.

He didn’t.

Ever.


5/29/09

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