Jasper woke up with a heavy headache; his head was throbbing so much it felt like he was being hit with a hammer. Great! He was having a hangover.
Last night Jasper had so much to think about that the next thing he knew, he was drowning himself with a bottle of whisky. The drink helped him concentrate at first, but it numbed him eventually, to the point he kept drinking till he couldn't differentiate his left from right anymore, and now, here he was.
He groaned with the effort of lifting himself, the world was spiraling out of control. As if that wasn't enough, the light filtering through the window made his eyes hurt, Jasper stumbled back.
Seriously, why do people enjoy drinking only to be tortured the next day? Were humans a sucker for pain or something?
"President,"
His head turned to meet the source of the interruption only to see his secretary walking into his room.
