He had no memory of what he had done the night before, although intermixed with his morning-after-nausea were little snippets, images.
Images of him dancing on top of a table, squishing a cat, and sticking Lego's up his nose.
With his eyes barely open that last image made a particular impact on him.
Were there Lego's up his nose?
Was that why he was feeling so groggy?
Without moving the rest of his body, he slowly lifted his right hand and touched his nose with utmost care.
No hard little bits there.
He uttered a sigh of relief.
"That's the last time, you tosser", he muttered under his breath while he sat up slowly, the world spinning before him.
Then he realized what day it was.
He jumped up, and almost instantly dropped back down again.
Landing on the bed with a muffled thud.
His legs were made of jelly and his head clearly had other plans.
But he had to get out.
He rolled himself towards the edge of the bed, lowered his limp body off the side onto the floor, dragging part of his stained duvet with him.
Life was moving in slow-motion.
He then proceeded to roll his body towards the door across a floor strewn with dirty socks, sneakers, an empty soda can, a half eaten kebab sandwich and three cigarettes in a plastic cup.
By the time he reached the door he looked even groggier than when he just woke.
Dragging his body across the threshold like a man who just reached an oasis after a week without water in the scorching desert, he made it to the other side.
"Yeah" he muttered, nauseous and breathless, before opening the door to the bathroom and dragging himself into the shower.
His head now pounding ferociously.
The icy water of the shower made his body twitch.
After sitting in the shower for a few minutes, he turned the tap off and proceeded to peel off his now soaked clothes.
There was no time to waste.
He got to his feet and swaggered his naked body towards the hall closet.
It had to be done.
Scratching his bare bottom and letting out a wail of inner pain he opened the closet door.
A beam of light streamed out, as it illuminated what hung inside:
A glorious pair of rocketship undies.
He slipped the underwear on.
They fit him like a glove.
It felt good.
He was ready.
Touching his rocketship-undie covered ass, he immediately noticed the power that emanated from them.
His demeanor had changed.
Gone was the nausea.
Gone were the images of squished cats and Lego nosebleeds.
Gone were his jelly legs.
It was April 2nd.
He was Rocketship Underwear Man.
He needed to fulfill his mission of climbing onto the rooftop and stare meaningfully into the far distance.
Hair flopping in the wind, sun fiddling with his bare chest, one leg bent, eyes fixed.
It was written.
So he did.
(for the fans of Rocketship Underwear Snippet Man, *wink!*)