Morning

This morning is going much as I thought it would. I vaguely remember Django. He killed a lot of people, they seemed to deserve it. Abbey waited for a while, she may have been bleating and I didn't hear her. I know, now up, we've been playing the games we usually do, with one participant looking down at the floor mumbling, "Bugger, I knew it. Hangover it is." Abbey is patient, she lies now looking at the toy i will soon I will be throwing. Implacable, throw it I definitely will. Coffee.