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Well. Tell me, you damn electric box, when the fuck is all this shit happening in this world finally gonna end? Though really, what could this useless hunk of metal tell me, besides another detergent ad or some dumb-ass TV show about rich carefree idiots… Screw the news. Not today, Mr. President. Today it’s just you and me, a bottle of dark, foamy Guinness. Oh yeah, baby!
(sip, sip, sip… burp, leans back in the chair)
God… I’m so fucking tired. All day this construction site, those stupid faces of my coworkers… And that dude on the screen looks exactly like our Patty, the vampire guy. I’m telling you, the same damn face! Though I still don’t get why the hell he got that nickname. What’s that crap called again?... Twilight? Huh, whatever, what’s next…
(clicking the remote)
On the screen again — those shiny idiots with their perfect white teeth. One of them just gave his girlfriend a yacht. A yacht! They’ve completely lost their fucking minds! You… you… God, what the hell am I even talking about? Here I am, sitting in my filthy chair that smells like sweat, cement, and cheap deodorant, arguing with the TV. Brilliant, Mike. Just brilliant.
(sip. another one. the bottle’s empty)
— I hate all of you so damn much, — I exhale, tossing the remote somewhere under the couch. — All those shiny bastards with white teeth and empty heads. He gave her a yacht! A fucking yacht! What the hell?! Hey, universe or whoever’s up there! I want a yacht too!
(sip. the last one. the bottle hits the floor with a dull thud. everything blurs)
— Well, there… drunk again… — I mumble, feeling my eyelids getting heavy. — Fuck you all…
The world melted, like warm beer from the fifth bottle of the night, and I didn’t even fight it, knowing that any second now I’d pass out right here, in my filthy chair, eyes staring blankly at the TV, where some idiots in tuxedos were drinking champagne on a deck.
(thud. IMPACT on my shoulder)
— AAH! — I scream, clutching my shoulder, feeling that sharp, burning pain — like my skin had just been zapped by electricity. But why the hell did I just yelp like some chick? And where the hell is my shirt… what the…Full story (8 500 characters - 2 parts) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon