Making Pasta

Frank awoke from his slumber late in the afternoon. He had spent the last few nights partying with his friends and was now hungover beyond belief. He struggled to get up from under his covers, but ultimately managed to find his footing. After some effort, he managed to find his way to the stairs where he descended them cautiously while holding onto the handrail. 

When he entered the kitchen area, he could smell the scent of baked ziti in the oven. This instantly surprised him, as he did not know what the time was. When he rounded the corner, his mother looked at him with a stern expression before chastising him for his scandalous actions throughout the weekend.

"Well, it's good to see that my son is still alive. Were you out drinking again?"

The words the woman spoke felt like a cheese grater against Frank's brain, and the florescent lighting wasn't helping. He stumbled towards a stool at the counter where he sat down and sunk his head into his arms.