Hell of a Headache

And it started out as a good day too. Oh! A searing pain shoots through Jack's beaten head. Thinking really hurts right now, but I can't stop going over what happened. It doesn't make a damn bit of sense...
I had staggered over to my usual spot, near my favorite grog wagon, and played my part to the hilt. My drunken performance was beginning to become legend, on that part of the street, I even took to spouting a bit of o'l Shakespeare, to entertain the passers by, just to break up the wallowing act. I was actually enjoying myself and that may have been my own undoing.
Trying to be clever in my quotes, I attempted to query the regulars about Stella and Grace, using lines like

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."

and also,

"Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
Are melted into air, into thin air.
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like the insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and out little life
Is rounded with a sleep."

to see what reaction I would receive about my own 'ghosts.' It would, painfully, appear I hit my target today or should I say, he hit me, repeatedly. All I really remember was fists flying and the man built like a brick chicken house saying through breath of rotted meat...so, you 'da bloke ask'n all them questions; he said ta watch out fer ye. This 'ill fix ye up! I saw metal glint in his hand for a second; this was turning ugly and with all the might I had left, grabbed his family jewels; jerking them with a twist, I heard a scream from that foul mouth and wrenched the knife out of his boxing glove sized hand.
Now, we had made enough commotion, that a crowd was gathered and in a fit of rage, he lunged at me; I welded the knife and slashed at him, another cry, but he didn't stop. I only managed to cut his arm and that fueled his anger more. Yelling obscenities at me, he came at me again, this time my aim was more damaging and I got his face and neck. Someone in the crowd yelled, look it's Jack The Ripper! What happened next is a mystery, as I either passed out or was knocked unconscious from crowd swell.
Waking up in a cell was a small relief, but I can't recommend the accommodations. The smells turned my stomach, worse than meat breath, so I attempted to bury my throbbing head into the material of the cot mattress to block it out. I must have been drifting in and out of consciousness, no doubt suffering from a concussion, for what seemed like days (later to discover only hours.)
It had been relatively quiet, some moaning next to me or maybe I was the one doing it. Now I could hear someone yelling, behind me. Can't quite focus...something about 'getting up'...'shite can'...'will regret it'...Hell! I'm passed that. Trying to get up, but my head is swirling around...voice seems familiar, why? 'Turn around'...another command; I can do this. Seems lighter in front of me now. I will try to walk closer to it. God! my head hurts...can't see well...hair in my face. Closer, closer...must stay standing. Almost there...I think I see a man. Oh god! all this walking, my head throbbing...I'm...I'm going to be sick... Escaping spew comes from Jack, out towards Warren standing on the other side of the cell door; eyes rolling up, Jack falls against the bars and slides to the floor, unconscious.
Stepping out of the pool of beer and food scrapes covering his boots, Warren quietly says to Jack, Everything will be alright Jack; I'll get help. As the duty officer arrives at the inspector's side, Warren stands up and demands a doctor be brought in immediately!