Jason woke with the feeling that his head was filled with cotton. As he eased himself up the room began to spin and he felt a wave of nausea. He rarely drank and the concept of a hangover was a novelty for him. Swinging his feet over the edge of his bunk, Jason began to stand up. He got almost half way there before being forced to put his hand to his temple with a groan. This was defiantly one novelty he could have done without.

An hour later found Jason sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of black coffee. He had heard it was the thing for a hangover, but was having a hard time believing it. The bitter liquid tasted like ash in his mouth, as if it were sucking what little moisture remained from is already parched palate.

It was then that the hatch to Rick’s bunk opened with a clank, followed by the sound of the man climbing the ladder up to the kitchen. “Howdy Jay, how ya feelin’?”

“Ugh”

“That good huh?” Rick regarded him a moment with a sardonic grin.

“Here, this’ll fix ya up.” Rick placed a small tablet on the table in front of Jason.

Jason moved to pick up his coffee but Rick took the cup from the table before he could reach it. He poured the now cold liquid down the sink before speaking again. “This ain’t what you need either.”

Rick rinsed and refilled the cup with cold water. Then, opening a cupboard he extracted a bottle of whiskey. When had he gotten that? Jason tried to recall the more than slightly fuzzy details that surrounded the latter half of their evening after the stop at the bar. His recollections where interrupted when he saw Rick pour a generous ration of the liquid into the cold water before passing the cup back to him. “Hair of the dog. Wash that pill down with this ‘n you’ll be feeling close to human again.”

“Now we’re mixing drugs and alcohol for breakfast?” asked Jason.

“Or, you can spend half the rest of the day feeling like you do now,” replied Rick.

Jason considered this, then complied with his friend’s instructions. Somehow, con