slayin' by elf!

And so begins a journey into class. Last night I was in bed before 9:30 after, I shit you not, eating two peanut butter cookies with a glass of warm milk. Nor did I smoke any of my customary 7 cigarrettes or even look at the half full decanter of fine caramel Kentucky bitchmistress. It was like something out of fairytale written by a reformed arena rock star. Last night, I was that reformed arena rock star.

Associate: What are you doing?
Working Boy: I’m going to bed.
A: it’s not even 9:30.
W.B.: That may be but I have had quite enough excitement for one evening.
A: Excitement? You ate a Cobb salad.
W.B: Please don’t mention that. It will get me all riled up before slumber.
A: What the hell is wrong with you?
W.B: What do you mean?
A: You can’t still be hung over from getting drunk in the am on Monday.
W.B: Um, i don’t know what you’re talking about.
A: You are still hungover!
W.B: Please don’t yell, it’s bad for my digestion.
A: Here smell the whiskey.
W.B: Um, that’s okay, I’d rather just drink decafinated Lady Grey.
A: Smell it.
W.B: Oh good heavnes. how can you drink that vile stuff?
A: I knew it. You’re still hung over and passing it off as a turn towards class.
W.B: unfounded lies!
A: yeah, we’ll see come Wednesday night.
W.B: I’m done with that life. It brought me nothing but dilusions of grandeur and the occasional fight or ill-conceived gushing.
A: What are you going to do comes these next few weekends when all form of friend is around?
W.B: I’ll drink Squirt and judge them with my eyes.
A; the hell you will. All you’ve been talking about for the last two weeks is how drunk and irresponsible you’re going to be.
W.B: That’s not even the least bit true.

In other news, over the next few weeks people will be around and those not planning on being around should think about coming around. Except for the lame asses. You know who are you are.