Book Hangover Meaning Novels & Stories

Eliz was woken up by a banging headache hitting him. He hold his head for some seconds trying to reduce the pain. “Why the hell am I feeling like this? “ I thought within. I was trying to rack my head to remember the cause of the headache when my mind flashed back to yesterday incident. “How did I manage to get home safely?” I can remember drinking myself to stupor last night. That is the main reason why I’m having hangover. I tried standing up but I fell back to the bed.

I woke up with a blinding headache the next morning. Nauseated, I could just barely sit up without vomiting. I couldn’t even remember what happened the night before after I started using the barf bag. Groaning, I looked at my phone. 10:30 a.m. Shit. I was so late. The last time I was late was when my apartment flooded, and Arthur didn’t take it too well then. He certainly wouldn’t take a hangover from my best friend’s birthday party as a better excuse.

That did not take away weight from the situation, less with the monstrous headache; I moaned in pain, the violence of the palpitations carried an aggressive swing in my temple. Hangover. The famous hangover was making me moan. What had happened last night? What the hell was he doing in a room painted entirely in black and gray? “Good morning, sleepyhead” saluted. I turned my head in his direction. My eyes widened and my lips parted, stranded in shock, in utter bewilderment at seeing the specimen of a man invading my field of vision. I couldn't even get a word together, I froze, I remained absorbed in her figure that I thought at first was an invention of my head, even some mental delirium, b

I've heard hangovers are the worst aftermath of a night of drinking. I've especially heard of the strange concoctions people swear by to get rid of it. Waking up to a door rattling as the person behind it pounds their fist into it while having my first hangover just makes the entire situation worse. It sounds like the banging is in tune with pounding in my head. The sound and feeling so in sync that it’s driving me crazy. I grab the nearest thing to me, a pillow, and hold it over my ears

SKYLAR I groan and lift my hand to my head as it thumps. I have never had any alcohol before, so I wouldn’t know what a hangover felt like, but some of the runaways I had hanged with for at least a short time had and what I was feeling seemed to be what I saw in them and what they described it to feel like. However, I know that I didn’t drink anything yesterday that would warrant me having a hangover, so whatever was in that small dart I had pulled out of my neck must be the cause of it.

Dan woke up just before dawn with a splitting headache. He felt sick and again vowed never to drink again. As usual he couldn’t remember everything that had happened the day before, but he remembered enough to know he had behaved badly. Seeing the bruise on Adele’s face confirmed it. Feeling sick and ashamed of himself, he quietly climbed out of bed and dragged himself downstairs to make something that would help with the hangover.

Linda narrowed her eyes at Honey and said, “You better hope that’s all! I am not sure what Adrian will do if he finds out that you gave her alcohol and she is now having a bad hangover!” Honey smirked in mind! ‘Hangover? The hangover is just not only for Emily, from the hallucinogens! Even Adrian will get a hangover when he will see what his dearest Mily was doing behind his back!’ But she never said that out loud!

She really meant it. God. My head pounded like someone was practicing drums inside it. I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and muttered to myself, “Alcohol doesn’t erase your problems. It just puts them on mute for a few hours… then screams them back when the buzz wears off. Sometimes it may even make you subscribe to another problem.” I staggered to the kitchen, praying I had enough ingredients left to make my mother’s legendary hangover soup. Onion. Pepper. Egg. Magic. I threw it together, sipped slowly, then collapsed onto the sofa like a soaked rag.

Or it would be awkward if I woke up in his bed anyway, even though we didn't finish what we started. I threw off the blanket, intending to take a hot bath, but the moment I stood on my feet, I felt the whole world spinning before my eyes. Is this what everyone is talking about, the consequences of consuming too much alcohol? What is it called? Hangover? My grandparents must have heard me falling off the bed, they rushed into my room, looking worried. "Oh honey," My grandmother almost jumped up to come to my side. And all I could muster was. "I'm fine. It's just the effects of the alcohol."

“Relax, dude. I didn’t drug you. You probably just mixed drinks or something. Come on, take a shower—you’ll feel better.” He groaned, glaring up at me. “No, seriously, this doesn’t make sense. My head’s killing me.” “Yeah, that’s called a hangover, genius.” I went to grab him a glass of water and some aspirin from the kitchen. When I came back, he was still sitting there, now staring blankly at the wall like his soul had left his body. “You sure you can go to school today?” I asked, passing him the pills. “You can stay home if you want. I’ll drive myself.”