Getting sloshed worked so much better when Chris had beer. He peered blearily into his fridge. No matter how he squinted, though, not a single brown bottle could be seen. Not even a can.
Woe is me.
He waggled his fingers and shouted, "Shazam!"
Beer did not magically appear.
"I command thee, minions of darkness, to fetch me a brew!" He stated it in his most regal voice. So what if he slurred a bit. Minions should always obey.
Except he didn't have any minions because he wasn't a king.
"Fuck." More and more, the world, life, everything sucked. His mom wasn't his mom. His future as the Antichrist might have been overstated. He'd imagined a sister and then kicked her into Hell. And he didn't get the girl.
Not even a blowjob.
What was the point of living?
I'm a loser. Useless. A waste
