Into the Night

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Writing with the Lord

“Max, you’re drunk.”
No I’m not. I’m just a lil’ bit relaxed is all.
“Mmm…no, you’re officially plastered. Isn’t that the term you kids use today?”
Okay, I have to agree with you. I’m pretty smashed. Must’ve been that last beer what tipped me over the edge.
“How do you feel?”
What kinda stupid question is that? We just agreed I’m hammered. Ain’t cha got no sense?
“Come on. Don’t talk to me that way. You’re smarter than that.”
Whatever, kill joy. Why do you keep following me around, anyway? Don’t you have something else to do besides bother me, while I’m celebrating?
“Oh? What exactly are we celebrating, Max?”
Ha HA! Didn’t you hear? Today I lost my job. It was dumb anyway. Getting’ up at four inna mornin’ and working ‘til only YOU knew when, everyday? No thanks. Construction’s not for me anymore. I got better plans for…

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