Drunk on the Moon, tales of the werewolf detective created by Paul D. Brazill. Mr B has lured me into the crime world much like a stranger with candy. I may be some time.
This is another story I can blame on The Fall, forsooth, by gad, verily! The opening owes as much also to Kingsley Amis, who set the bar high for hangover scenes in his classic of academic ambivalence, Lucky Jim. What can I say? I'm competitive.
I could feel my eyeballs roll in their sockets before I opened my lids: never a good sign. I steeled myself for the brutal fact of daylight, but the dawn was as grey as if it hadn't yet decided to get dressed. I reached for the crumpled pack of gaspers lying next to the bed. The object my groping fingers found puzzled me.
I opened one eye warily. It was a handkerchief, floral and trimmed in lace...
Poor Roman: things are going to get worse before they get better. Oh, wait -- no, they're just going to get worse. Hee.