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Thought I would share tonight's meeting with you. Since that's what all us out of control, social deviate, scum of society, liverless, subhumans do, we share things. Not that anybody really gives a rat's but anyway.... I arrived at my intoxicated's anonymous meeting and was suddenly disillusioned to find I could not even begin to be anonymous because everyone I know on the planet seemed to be there. Things just seemed to go down hill from there. Seems there was a C.A. meeting previous to mine in the same room, so all the chairs were sticky. That kind of grossed me out but life goes on. Who am I to take someone else's inventory. So I find a chair without dribblespots on it only to find it greasy, apparently a Ford Taurus own had been there having had to fix his vehicle just to arrive. Now there was a depressing thought. Other people still have their licenses. Other people can still drive. Who cares that they have to drive beater, hate to be seen in public, Taurus', them suckers is a drivin'. Now I am really bummed. Thinking that this really builds up the urge for a icy cold winter brew, I begin to reflect on what has gone wrong, why I am here and how now I must make amends. Well, they say I need a sponser, so I think long and hard and figure, well, nobody understands this more than Daddy Biggs and what's his name, that wanker from Florida, oh yeah, the Ecuadorian Jungle guy. Hmm, thinks I, the Jungle guy, or Biggs, Biggs or the Jungle guy. Guess I won't have a gosh-darned sponser says I. Ok, next step, admit the error of my ways, figure out what went wrong, figure out how to fix it. Sinking all my money in to a particular stock comes to mind. Well, you can bet I don't do that again. Heck, guess I really don't need to be here. If I just don't invest in the stock market, I'll never have the desire to drink again. That doggone Wiley E., or whatever his name was, yeah, that's it. He made me do it. Well, at least he tried to make me a better person, at least a wealthier one. Now I see his real plot was the work of the devil, causing me to drink as if the jezabob himself were my bartender. I see it all clearly now. Sober a week and no investments. I begin to feel cured. I am someone. I am OK. I am the greatest, soberest, smartest, most amazing, stupid, liverless swine so this is my life for the next two years. I find serenity in the fact that the government has found yet another way to involve themselves in my life for their financial benefit. Que Sara Sara, Ob la di, Ob la da, bring on the coffee and cigarettes. The team leader taps me on the shoulder and tells me, "If you're gonna sleep, don't snore, alright? See ya tomarrow." If you ever wondered what it was like, well......., I'll never tell, gotta keep up my anonymenity, ya know. PS, Wiley E., if you read this, no offense, just kidding around, thanks for the memories. |
