deathboy | The Bottle

I'm such a fucking turkey.

"Darling, you're not going to be impressed with this, but I'm out of booze and I'm off to the shops to get some more."

*liz grabs my leg*

"No. You don't. You DON'T."

"I do, honey, I'm out of booze, I'm not done with this remix yet, I need to finish things"

"So drink cola."

"That's not good enough, I need to get some more booze in."

"No you don't. There's that half a bottle of Bacardi."

"I drank it."

"And the half-bottle of vodka you bought?"

"I drank it."

"Well then, why did you buy a half-bottle?"

"Because I'm trying to drink less."

"So you don't need more vodka."

"I do. I really do."

Liz starts to cry.

"I'll see what I can do."

Mr Dickhead goes out for a cigarette and thinks about what he's done.

Mr Dickhead goes upstairs and finishes the remix without any more alcohol. And probably much better for the clear head, too.

I'm a prick. I have some really, really big problems.

But I never stop trying to fix them. And I fucking will. Just you fucking see.

And that stuff about loving having good people around me isn't just my loving the safety net, it's loving having people who care enough about me to give me a fucking talking-down once in a while.

I don't much like what I see reflected in other peoples' eyes these days.

I'm not going to fall back into the pit again.

Pin a fucking medal on me.

Remix sounds fucking fantastic, I might add. I'm nothing if not outrageously talented.

Christ, I need a cigarette.