A morning with a headache

Version 3.90

Ah, your head. It's hammering you out of the so liberating sleep. That final whisky was the drop, or perhaps the last 10, or the entire bottle. You look around. Where are you? Oh, that's right, tucked in bed. And your name is Frank. Besides that you don't remember anything at the moment. Your life has disappeared in a blackout from, presumably, to much booze. You have an alarming feeling that you are supposed to do something. And that it needs to be done right away. But what is it?

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