Your Sunday mornings always start off the same way. You wake up in the throes of a head-splitting hangover so pronounced you feel like sunlight might turn your eyeballs to stones. You summon the strength to turn your head on its side and check out the guy lying next to you. Then you ask the question you ask yourself every Sunday morning without fail.
"Okay so who's this joker?"
Without waking him for an answer, you go into the kitchen and fix a pot of coffee, trying to down a few cups before he comes in and introduces himself again. You savor those first few cups. You drink them while you're coming back to life. It's after those cups are drained that you have to actually try and live again, and that's when you start to worry over all the wasted hours lost to alcohol and friends whose company you don't enjoy.
After those two cups, he'll shuffle into kitchen, rubbing the sight into his eyes, still managing to muster up a naughty smile. That's when you'll ask your second question of the morning.
"All right so what's your story, Smartguy?"
Happy "Okay So Who's This Joker?" Day!
