Fat Charlie was thirsty.
Fat Charlie was thirsty and his head hurt.
Fat Charlie was thirsty and his head hurt and his mouth tasted evil and his eyes were too tight in his head and all his teeth twinged and his stomach burned and his back was aching in a way that started around his knees and went up to his forehead and his brains had been removed and replaced with cotton balls and needles and pins which was why it hurt to try and think, and his eyes were not just too tight in his head but they must have rolled out in the night and been reattached with roofing nails; and now he noticed that anything louder than the gentle Brownian motion of air molecules drifting softly past each other was above his pain threshold.
Also, he wished he were dead.
Fat Charlie opened his eyes, which was a mistake, in that it let daylight in, which hurt. It also told him where he was (in his own bed, in his bedroom) and because he was staring at the clock on his bedside table, it told him that the time was 11.30.
—Neil Gaiman (Anansi Boys)
Jepp, jeg kjenner meg igjen i beskrivelsen.
Små sidespor 