Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

Just had surgery on my gums in which the dentist cranked a titanium bolt into my upper jaw bone and sealed the deal with biodegradable stitches, which now scratch the inside of my lips with every syllable I utter and each chew I make.

But the pain from the surgical slices to my mouth aren't bad. The maddening part is the fucking hiccups. Yea, that's right, the hiccups.

???

I have no f'n clue why I've had hiccups for more than 48 hours straight, but now I understand why Motörhead wrote a song about this type of physical torture.

In the last two days, I was almost Killed by Hiccups.

I know you're thinking it's not possible, but imagine me---my friend squeezing his fingers brainward into my ear-lobes---being shouted at to chug a full glass of lukewarm tap water. ...

To no avail. The hiccups remained.

Hiccups are like an obscure disease straight from the Middle Ages. Who the fuck knows how to cure them aside from hocus-pocus folk remedies like howling at the moon or some such shit. Check out the wiki page on home remedies, and you'll think you've stumbled upon a website written by black-clad wiccans. And there's not one person---medical or otherwise---who can give a proper explanation of WTF a hiccup really is or what the causes are.

If you get them like I've had for the past 48 hours, just pray to god that they don't kill you faster than a Motörhead song. Because I narrowly escaped.