Hangover Henry (Part 3)

    By the end of the week everything started to break down. The saws made their final cut, the generator started for the last time and Catherine couldn't stand Henry's drinking, so she walked out the door. Henry had been working odd jobs here and there to make ends meet. He had been living off ham and rye samdwiches for the last two weeks. He was fed up with his current job, nothing worked right, lost his woman, even though they had only been together for two weeks, she has left none the less. Henry couldn't swallow another ham sandwich, another tool breaking, or bare to look at another woman that day. He hit the bottle hard that night with every red cent he had to his name, and his name was never worth much.
   He awoke the next morning with one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had. His head felt like a volcano on the edge of eruption. He needed a coffee and something in his stomach other than a ham sandwich. By the time Henry realized he didn't have any money, he could barely see, his head was throbing so bad. The nearest corner store that exchanged empty bottles for cash was a few blocks passed the coffee shop. If he could gather up enough empties and make it to the store, he might just have a chance on kicking his hangover.
   Henry clunked about his apartment searching everywhere for empty bottles to cash in. He managed to find a few in his dirty laundry basket and under the kitchen sink, and a few more in the bathroom closet, even a couple in between his boxspring and matress. No wonder he wasn't sleeping right through the night, even with the way he kept himself. After thirty minutes of agonizing bending, crouching and lifting, Henry finally had enough bottles to make a few bucks. No sooner was he out the door than his land lady stopped him in the hallway asking about his rent money that was due in a day. He just couldn't catch a break that week. Henry told her that he would have it on time, knowing damn well there was no chance of him making rent at least for another two weeks if he could find another quick hire job. He tried to brush passed her as fast as he could without getting into any kind of conversation, he knew how much women talked when they wanted something from you.
   The sun hit Henry's face like a freight train on fire, full of burning hot oil and fireworks. He almost threw up it was so bright. Henry never liked the sun, it reminded him too much of the schoolyard. He didn't have time to think about that though, he needed to kill his hangover with coffee, cream, sugar and whatever other poisons he could stomach.