Wednesday, March 22, 2006

A guy I went to high school with recently told me a story over the phone:

He had gotten fired from his job at a gas station for drinking at work, stealing, and often erratic behavior. His boss had cut him many a break, feeling sorry for him and wanting to extend a helping hand. Finally, though, the axe fell despite all the boss's efforts.

The boss gave my friend a hundred dollars, telling him that he didn't want him to be on the street and begging him to get some help. My friend went to a liquor store and bought three half-gallons of cheap vodka and then spent the rest of the money on meth. Having spent the day getting high and guzzling the booze, my friend decided to go and hang himself from a pipe over the gas station door. It was about three in the morning.

He was too fucked up to tie the knot properly, though, and as he dangled it slipped and gave way, dropping him to the ground in a heap. He had hung long enough to severely abrade his throat and... more noticably... void his bowels and bladder into his pants.

He came to at seven the next morning shaking with DTs and covered in shit, his neck bleeding and his voicebox painfully crushed.
Nothing to do but get up and go.

If there's a deeper bottom, I don't care to hear of it.