Drunk people love me. Don’t ask me why, they just do. Not in a romantic way or anything; they just seem to think we’re besties. It’s the weirdest thing. It’s even stranger considering that, as I’ve mentioned in my earlier posts, when sober most people assume I hate them for some fucked up reason. Not when they’re under the influence though. God no! Then I’m the nicest guy alive!

I’m not complaining either; It’s kind of awesome to be the most popular guy in the room. That sounds shallow but it’s deeply satisfying. Plus, inebriated people are extremely charitable with their money. Drunken riff raff always feel the need to buy me  a drink. I’m not talkin’ cheap-o light beer here. It’s Jaeger bombs, it’s Jamaican rum and coke, it’s vodka and passion fruit. Damn, pissed people have expensive taste. The value of money disappears faster than the alcohol they’re downing.

It’s a mutually beneficial relationship at its very finest. Drunk people love having a pal and I love getting my drinks bought for me. It’s actually a necessity for me as it’s my only avenue to getting free liquor as I don’t have nice breasts. Everyone loves titties and they usually reward it with free things. What people value most after titties, especially people who are absolutely fucking stewed, is companionship. Enter me. Old buddy, old pal, old friend.

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