This is the end...

I have a wet patch on my shirt. It is on my left side, just above my hip. I don’t know where it is from. Granted, it is raining today, but the rest of my body is quite dry. This spot on my shirt is soaking wet. I’m not positive it’s water either, it has a vaguely chemical smell. This, combined with a pimple on my nose, forces me to conclude that I am undergoing a fly-like metamorphosis. That sucks, but on the bright side it is a spanking excuse to start drinking again. Of course my bastard friends would still probably give me grief.

Bastard Friend: You know, I invited you to dinner for a reason…
Me: Really? (vomits on food)
BF: Yes, I’m concerned about your drinking…
Me: God, really? (pulls out tooth)
BF: Yes, you seemed to be on the right track, but now…
Me: Well, in all fairness I am turning into a grotesque man-insect hybrid. (vomits on food again)
BF: That’s no reason to throw away all the progress you’ve made.
Me: I think it’s a rather good reason, actually!
BF: Well, are you just going to start drinking every time you suffer a setback in life?
Me: (sullenly pulls out a clump of hair)
BF: I just think you should try and deal with things instead of running to booze at the drop of a hat.
Me: (vomits on food again, purely out of spite this time)
BF: Would you cut that out? I’m trying to be serious, here.
Me: Alright! Jesus, I’ll quit drinking…
BF: Well don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself.
Me: Myself? Listen, I… (jawbone drops off, and lands on table with a loud thud)
BF: See? I told you drinking was bad for you.

My God! What a grim picture. I hate lectures.