Budding Alcoholism: You know, you have the house to yourself all tomorrow. You could get slamfuck drunk and be hungover and nobody would be the wiser.
Me: I don't like that idea.
Internal Sadism: No, really, it's cool. Your liver only has a few holes in it so far.
Me: That's...a disgusting mental image, thank you.
Libido: So I've been thinking...
Me: No. I don't care what you have been thinking about. It's irrelevant.
Libido: But...
Me: No, seriously, you should just...die. Die like romanticism did.
Zombie Romanticism: Blaaaaaaaargh!
Self-Loathing: Oh please. Get off your damn high horse. You don't buy into any of the shit you've been spewing for the past while. Never dating again? My ass. You're going to fold like a tortilla the first time a pretty girl flashes a grin at you, you bitch.
Ego: Hey now...
Self-Loathing: You know I'm right! You know that every single word I have said is absolutely true.
Realism: Dude, you're the self-loathing part of his psyche. Everything you say is completely WRONG. Seriously, you're about the most wrong thing rattling around up here.
Pervert: Yes!
Realism: Well...except for him.
Latent Psychopathy: Score.
Realism: And him.
Internal Sadism: I win!
Realism: Okay, fine, and him too.
Reckless Endangerment: Sounds good to me.
Realism: Look! The point is that you aren't helpful.
Ego: Hear hear!
Libido: I am!
Self-Loathing: The hell you are. You just complicate things.
Libido: Well...
Me: He's kinda right on that one. At this point in my life, I need you about as much as a kick in the sack.
Internal Sadism: Really?!
Me: It's an expression.
Pedantry: Not a very good one.
Libido: I have every right to be here as all the rest. You killed the romantic side or at least you think you did. And we scream down the optimist every time he shows up...
Hopeless Optimist: ...
Libido: Nothing?
Hopeless Optimist: *shakes head*
Libido: Damn. That was a perfect set up. Anyways, the fact is, you need me around. You need me to direct your gaze towards breasts and asses. You need me to demand you take care of business. You need me to keep you male otherwise everything below the waist may well just shrivel up and die.
Self-Loathing: How could you tell?
Ego: Oh shut the hell up, you ass!
Libido: What I'm saying is simple...kill me and lose everything that makes you a dude.
Me: I would still love beer and sports and violence.
Libido: What purpose does beer serve but to get you or women drunk so you can sex 'em up? What is sports but male sexual aggression transferred into energy? What is violence but a sex surrogate?
Realism: He has a valid argument.
Me: He...does not.
Pervert: Yeah! And without me, you wouldn't think about what some hot chick would look like tied to your bed and dressed all in black leather!
Libido: Hot. Ahem. But not helping!
Pervert: I'm helping you!
Libido: You are. Damn you.
Me: If I may interrupt.
Everyone but Me: I guess.
Me: This is what I think...I think...
Inner Child: I wanna play!
OCD: PLAYING LEADS TO CUTS LEADS TO GERMS LEADS TO INFECTION LEADS TO GANGRENE LEADS TO AMPUTATION LEADS TO FURTHER INFECTION LEADS TO FURTHER AMPUTATION LEADS TO CRITICAL ORGAN FAILURE LEADS TO DEATH!
Me: Wow. Okay. Fuck that then. Time for booze.
Budding Alcoholism: And the crowd goes wild!
No comments:
Post a Comment