Shaun got out of bed and missed.
He gently crashed face first into the floor, and actually bounced a little.
“Er..” he said, stunned, confused and still quite horrifically hung over. He tried to get to his feet as the room span around him, and found it surprisingly easy until the force of standing up lifted his feet slightly off the floor, causing him to slip and fall sideways into his bed. The bed didn’t appear to appreciate this as it decided to leave. He hit the floor again, looking up in confusion at the bed which had skidded across the room and was now sulking in a corner. He tried standing again. It worked better this time, though his adventures in posture had caused the room to accelerate in it’s spinning. He staggered, rather effectively he thought, to the bathroom. There were noises. A lot of noises.
A few minutes later Shaun stumbled back out of the bathroom, looking relieved and somewhat confused. The merry-go-room that had been was now only mildly wavy, still not it’s normal, stationary self, but better than trying to walk in something that felt like a horrific children’s carnival ride. His mind was beginning to struggle back to a state of mildly functional, and bits of him were complaining that they had not been well treated. His brain, running on autopilot, heard the complaints and dismissed them, explaining that there was something far more important to be dealing with, although it wasn’t sure what it was. As the physical complains subsided to a dull grumbling, Shaun grasped a minor hold on what was wrong.
“Bloody hell, must have lost six stone in the loo,” he muttered, more or less accurately, though not for the naughty biological reasons that he thought. Even though he had a bit of a hard time with his legs, he eventually managed to come to a truce with his lower limbs and essayed a step. It didn’t fight back. He tried again. Similarly, there were no disastrous consequences. He walked to the stairs, skimming across the ground effortlessly in exactly the way that broken shopping carts don’t. He leaped down the stairs like an eager child at Christmas, and like an eager child at Christmas, completely failed to to watch where he was going.
Standing up off the ground for the third time that day (he was getting rather good at it by this point), he glared at the bottom step. He was sure the pattern in the wood was grinning back. Glancing out the window, he took in the street full of people joyously bounding through the air. He watched for a moment. They jumped, bounced almost glided through the air, an entire street gone mad, ignoring the laws of nature. It made him sick.
He wiped his shirt off, getting most of the splash damage dealt with and made a note to clean up the nearby potted fern later. Clearly there was a need for some coffee. Being hung over was one thing, the insane hallucinations that he was clearly having was another. Walking to the kitchen was a joy. Feeling light and sprightly, he tried a few jumps. His brain reminded him by way of some very insistent pounding of how much he had drank last night. He stopped jumping.
Shaun made coffee. This was not as easy as he thought it might be. Beans flew everywhere as he tried to pour them, water refused to fall properly and he kept throwing things that he picked up, as if the whole world had suddenly decided to become light as a feather without any advance notice which was, he thought, fairly unsporting of it.
After a few minor spills, burns, and curses, he managed to get a hold of a coffee cup and drink from it without coating the ceiling. It took it’s time going down, requiring more coffee to be send down as reinforcements just to get the first sip to where it was badly needed. He managed to sit down and stare out his back window. As the coffee began to take effect, Shaun felt a little better. He was a little confused by the way the birds all seemed to be wildly out of control, crashing into just about anything that happened to be nearby. One bird on the lawn, with what he thought appeared to be a look similar to the confused one he had employed earlier, flapped its wings hard once and shot upwards in a trail of feathers. This was right before the squirrel took a running leap from one tree to another and overshot the distance so far that it had time to turn in the air and flail its tiny arms wildly as it disappeared from view.
Shaun took a sip of his coffee very carefully. His brain was trying to make second gear and having a tough time. Smoke metaphorically was coming from his ears as it failed to shift properly several times.
In times of great crisis, the brain goes over various life events, trying to equate an experience with the one the brain’s owner was having to try and deal with it. This was not a great crisis for Shaun, so instead of searching frantically, causing his life to flash before his eyes, his brain did the equivalent of a dull power point presentation. It did, however, come up with a functional solution.
Shaun decided to get drunk.