"Chug it!"

"Naw, gimme a sec. I'm feelin sour. Gotta breathe."

"Fuck that! You have a duty to your peers. Pound that syrupy bastard. Jager's good for you. Lotsa vitamins and minerals."

"I really don't-"

"Now! Chug it! No excuses!"

Don't sumbit to peer pressure. Consider yourself a leader, a rock, an impenetrable wall of stubborn willpower. Don't allow yourself to be swept away by the tides of idiocy. Leave those duties to your associates. Instead, choose unique, iconoclastic forms of idiocy that you conjure yourself.

"Chug it yourself, you swollen prick."

Don't provoke tall swarthy drunken louts. Travel the path of least resistance, swerving past obstacles and confrontations like an oiled snake. Why start yelling and shoving? Why discuss somebody's mother when you've never met her before? Such a course of action is bound to end in blood and shattered teeth.

"Did you just call me a prick?"

Break your rules every once in a while. Spice up your life, as a fast food commerical might say. Let impulse and nihlism light the sky. Damn the torpedoes.

"I did, but I didn't mean it. What I meant to call you was a boorish, bumbling, bloated sack of liquid hyena shit. You can take that Jagermeister and wipe your mother clean with it. Lord knows she needs sanitization. Now fuck off."

My jaw still feels sore today, and I think one of my ribs is dangling loose, scraping a kidney when I walk. I hope I inflicted some permanant damage before I lost consciousness. I woke up on the sidewalk with cigarette butts rammed up my nose and hard liqour splashed all over me. I thought for a moment that I was a Vietnam vet and my methadone must've run out, but then I saw my car and remembered I'm too young for that. My darling amnesia deserted me again.

Drink lots of water. It's good for you. Flushes you out. Go on, chug it. 2:11 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm