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Self-Portrait 3
... I punch out of the slave, oh, 40 minutes ago. I figure since I've got everything I need in my notebook, and I've been cooped up inside all day anyway, I'll walk down to Alabama Power and pay my light bill before I go home. So I walk down there, drop the bill and the check in one of the little envelopes they leave out for you, and walk back up to the apartment. I go across the street in front of the Jupiter and cut in between Tut's and the Houndstooth. I'm walking behind the 'Tooth, and guess what I see? At twenty minutes after nine on a Thursday night. Up on my left there's an SUV with the motor running and the lights on, he's pulling out so I better keep an eye on him... glance over to the right and theres some fred standing at the corner of the Houndstooth taking a piss.

Jesus Christ.

The words "Fuck, is it even nine thirty yet?" have not even left my lips when I glance back to the left... and standing next to (slumping against, really) the running SUV, as what I assume was her boyfriend looks on, is a skinny little blonde puking her guts up. There's already a nice chunky yellow puddle about the size of a dinner plate at her feet, and as I watch she leans over and pulls the trigger again. I don't mean retching drunkly and spitting up a little bit either, this bitch was flat out horking. Solid projectile stream with full splatter.

I stopped there, between them. I looked to my right; dudeman's still pissing away. I looked to my left; susie's still splatting away, and a voice comes out of the SUV, "You okay?" I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time, just to make sure I hadn't somehow lost an hour or six between work and here. Nine twenty in the PM.

Now, I'm not saying I don't sympathize. I could sit here and tell you I've never gotten so drunk that I whipped it out and popped a squirt in public; I could tell you I've never gotten so drunk that I powerspewed. But I'd be fuckin' lying, so I won't. But nine-twenty? On a Thursday fucking night? God's balls, have some self-respect. At least pretend that you have half a ruttin' ounce of something that even vaguely resembles self-respect. God damn.

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Getting to' up on a random Wednesday just for the fuck of it is an entirely different animal from going out for a night of drinking and being piss-in-public drunk by 9:30. It's like apples and oranges.

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