Friday, November 18, 2016

That 12th Step

Ah, yes another Friday rolls around my friend. Time for strong libations. Whaddya say?

Twelve steps lead up to the second level of my house. But I have to take a 13th step to get onto the second floor. Is that unlucky?

What? What the hell are you talking about?

I am concerned that every time I go upstairs I am inviting bad luck, but it's a matter of interpretation. There are only twelve steps but I have to take thirteen to complete the journey.

Are you serious?

Maybe that is why my life has been so erratic, so unwieldy. Maybe it's not my fault. Maybe I should skip the last step. Then again, what if I pull a muscle stretching out to the top? I'm not as young as I used to be.

You're not as dead as you're gonna be if you don't pound a few with me tonight.

What other things have I missed in my life that might be jinxing me? I gotta get this shit right, man - I'm trying to make a statement here and I'm running out of time.

What is the statement - that you are retarded?

That is not a nice word. It is not politically correct. You know how much I care about being politically correct.

Jesus, man you don't give a shit about being politically correct. You spit on people who are politically correct.

I do?

Goddamn right.

Yeah, now that you mention it I think I remember something about myself along those lines.

Are you stoned? Do you know who you are? Do you know where you are?

I am a little bug, a tiny little bug trying to create big waves in this world.

The only waves you create are when you stand in front of the toilet.

Man, you are being harsh. What the fuck?

I just don't want you to waste time worrying. Just get drunk. Stay drunk. It's the only way.

I love the color brown but I don't wear a lot of brown. I don't know why. Why don't I wear more brown?That's gotta be bad luck, right?

Can we go now?

We should go shopping first. I need some brown shirts.

I don't wanna go shopping. It's Friday night. I just got out of work. I survived another day with my asshole boss and my soul sucking job. Know how I did that?


I knew I was gonna get drunk tonight. It's fucking simple.

I don't read enough poetry. I love poetry. Well, not all poetry. Not that artsy fartsy stuff that don't make no sense with all those fancy goddamn words and ideas. I like the straight ahead stuff. Like "Life is a cesspool and you gotta keep swimming, if you don't swallow you know that you're winning."

You are a sick son of a bitch. Come on, man there are cold beers and hot ladies waiting for us on a crazy-ass Friday night. Let's dance.

Do me a favor. Go upstairs and find me a shirt. Preferably a brown one if you can.

Should I skip the 12th step on the way up? How about the way down - what do I do then - jump?

Oh Christ, man that's a good point. We better stay home.

I'll see you later. I am outta here. Call me when your brain function returns, knucklehead.

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