EveryDayAmnesiac
I've given all I can. It's not enough.
So let me make something nice and sparkly clear.
This is NOT a quick read thread. You don't just drop in and leave. This is a thread where stories are told in their completion. If you have a problem with that, this is not the thread for you.
So back in circa 2006, I was living in this rundown shithole apartment building. And one of our neighbors was a legendary alchoholic known throughout the neighborhood. Bar fights, DWI's, jail sentences, etc. He was well known for challenging local police to fisticuffs.
Actually a nice man ... in the morning. Before he got drunk again.
Yet, I never saw him hungover. And one morning, I went over to check on him because it sounded like his whole apartment had collapsed and I "caught" him. Doing his anti-hangover routine.
Now, maybe this is a thing but I'd never seen it before and I've not seen it since.
He poured an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol into a cup. And then poured at least two vodka shots worth into the same cup, and chugged it. I stared at him doing it. Never saw him hungover.
So this man would regularly knock on my door, 11 am at the latest, asking me if I wanted to do some shots. Or drink some beer. It was clearly a desperate attempt to make a friend in his final days but I didn't know that at the time. I was 26. I didn't know shit. Plus I was a coke dealer and was paranoid as fuck. Somehow, he knew. He said he was, "looking out for me." Whatever that means.
So, at one point, I'd not heard from him in three days. Which was weird because the walls in this building were paper-thin. You could hear every goddamn thing everyone in the building was doing at any time. Yet, me and my bitch cunt cheating wife could not hear a thing. I was selected to go check on him.
And... yeah. There he was. Dead. Dead. Sprawled about on the kitchen floor. Bottle of Jack Daniels next to him. This man drank until his last waking moment.
Of course I checked his pulse and called 911 but it was pointless. This man was dead. Dead as fucking dead.
No one in town was surprised to hear about it.
I'll tell you right now, people. Seeing a dead human body in person is something you'll never forget. Nor should you. I've seen three. I'm certain there are some of you who have seen many more - to those, I'm sorry. I'm sorry as fuck. Those images don't go away.
Seeing a dead human body in person changes you.
Death can suckle my butthole, as far as I'm concerned.
This is NOT a quick read thread. You don't just drop in and leave. This is a thread where stories are told in their completion. If you have a problem with that, this is not the thread for you.
So back in circa 2006, I was living in this rundown shithole apartment building. And one of our neighbors was a legendary alchoholic known throughout the neighborhood. Bar fights, DWI's, jail sentences, etc. He was well known for challenging local police to fisticuffs.
Actually a nice man ... in the morning. Before he got drunk again.
Yet, I never saw him hungover. And one morning, I went over to check on him because it sounded like his whole apartment had collapsed and I "caught" him. Doing his anti-hangover routine.
Now, maybe this is a thing but I'd never seen it before and I've not seen it since.
He poured an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol into a cup. And then poured at least two vodka shots worth into the same cup, and chugged it. I stared at him doing it. Never saw him hungover.
So this man would regularly knock on my door, 11 am at the latest, asking me if I wanted to do some shots. Or drink some beer. It was clearly a desperate attempt to make a friend in his final days but I didn't know that at the time. I was 26. I didn't know shit. Plus I was a coke dealer and was paranoid as fuck. Somehow, he knew. He said he was, "looking out for me." Whatever that means.
So, at one point, I'd not heard from him in three days. Which was weird because the walls in this building were paper-thin. You could hear every goddamn thing everyone in the building was doing at any time. Yet, me and my bitch cunt cheating wife could not hear a thing. I was selected to go check on him.
And... yeah. There he was. Dead. Dead. Sprawled about on the kitchen floor. Bottle of Jack Daniels next to him. This man drank until his last waking moment.
Of course I checked his pulse and called 911 but it was pointless. This man was dead. Dead as fucking dead.
No one in town was surprised to hear about it.
I'll tell you right now, people. Seeing a dead human body in person is something you'll never forget. Nor should you. I've seen three. I'm certain there are some of you who have seen many more - to those, I'm sorry. I'm sorry as fuck. Those images don't go away.
Seeing a dead human body in person changes you.
Death can suckle my butthole, as far as I'm concerned.
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