I was supposed to work tonight, but I didn’t go. Jerry showed up with a thirty rack and some blow. He told me that we had to get fucked up, and that I had my whole life to work. I said “ok.” And then we each did a couple of lines and shotgunned a couple of beers. Now I’m here. Slouched in my couch and too shitfaced to move. Guess I’ll probably get fired. Fuck it. This was worth it. And I have my whole life to work.
“Alright, dude.” Jerry stands up from the couch. “I gotta go. Gotta get some sleep before work in the morning.”
“Whurthefug,” I say.
Jerry walks out of the door. “See ya, Lou.”
I look down at myself: spilt beer on my shirt. An empty in my hand. There’s a commercial playing on the TV for some rehab facility on an island. I laugh and reach into the case and find one last can.
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