I'm an ordinary man...[Extension of the story that was the longer one, second extension]

A Few drinks and the soundtrack to My Fair Lady and I think I can write some more.

The world spun. Darkening, more gritty, more real and immediate. I was aware of it, but unfortunately it was the last thing I was aware of. The bottle was gone, but I had enough to buy myself another. This one was sipped.

"Wake the fuck up! I'm not fucking joking, we're taking you to the hospital if you don't wake up."

"Sure whateveeerrr, I'm awaaakee" I lifted my head, it was still dark and Bear was slapping me. "I'm good don't worry." The world was spinning badly, I looked around. To the left was a storm sewer, to the right was the street. Shit, I had had a bit too much. The world dimmed and disappeared again.

"You okay? We're going to stop for food." Bear's voice again. A firm voice, a little indecisive, but insisting.

I sat up, my head bumping lightly against the roof of the car. I set my head back down again, it was resting on Bear's lap surprisingly enough. It was really fucking bright, too goddamn bright, at least noon. "I'm good, where are we stopping?" My stomach jumped a little as I thought of food. I layed back down and closed my eyes. My hands went up and rubbed my eyes hard.

"Don't know yet. Pulling into some town up ahead here." She reached down and gave me a bit of a shove upright. "The usual fast food joints, some small bars and a couple of other small restaurants."

"I think I'm going to vote against another bar." I grinned, but a quick and painful glimpse let me know that no one cared about my hangover. "Something greasy and a big glass of water sounds pretty damn good. That or more sleep."

"Yeah, that's the general plan. Aside from Fool, we all had a bit too much, not as bad as you, but still..." She reached out and patted my shoulder.

"We're going to fucking Hardee's and I'm getting a fucking giant greaseburger. I don't fucking care what you want." Fool barked as he wrenched the wheel towards the parking lot.

This was going to be a god damn long day.

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A reason or an excuse...

It's your choice. I'm having a hard time writing without being forced. I'm frankly becoming acutely aware of the limitations of life as a dedicated bachelor. The experience of "love" is one that many expect as evidenced by a few of the responses to the story I posted previously when it was given to my class. By disavowing all knowledge of something that is a large part of most male's lifestyle I see the limits. My own fault, as soon as I find a way to write away or around the limits of my experience, I shall return. I've honestly tried to write new stories (or revise old ones) for here, but my limits are hitting me harder than I expected on many of my "best" ideas. In summary, the fat alcoholic guy who writes this here site is whining instead of writing. Expect a lot of updates come November for National Write a Novel Month. No guarentee on quality, aside from stilted and terrible.

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