Fried Lizard

Awakening was acrid on the eyes, while it wasn't until the morning struck his pupils that Phillip realised the sheer awfulness of a day beginning.

He reached for the stand to grab his cigarettes, gingerly avoiding the wall, even in his vomitous state. He touched the fried lizard embedded into the wall to turn on the lamp the previous night, and had no intentions of grazing his flesh against its burnt pungent scales again. He felt the box, grabbed a smoke, and lit up.

Phillip hobbled to the bathroom, again picking where he touched quite carefully. He brushed his teeth amongst the exploded entrails of thousands of smashed insects, arachnids, and other species of prickling vermin.

He spit, rinsed, and continued huffing on the nicotine stick as if it were the only true breakfast of champions.

Back in the bed, he wanted to catch more sleep, but smoking woke him up to the fullest. He soon found himself in the mood for breakfast. If he had judged the food in this motel by the black abyss consuming the pit that was supposed to have water fr a swimming pool, he was better off eating the fried lizard.