A descent into madness- one man's journal

Professor Smarmiarty · 08-19-2011, 03:29 PM

Why did I agree on that faitful night? Where did the mirth strand me once it had flowed away?
A simple gentleman's agreement in tophat attire, we spat and we shook on terms most dire.
For Scooty Mcgee, smokes down the drain, no easy release from his lifelong pain. For scooty was born with eyes at a cross, without his cigarettes he was at a loss.
Next down the line, with a shake and a shudder, was Horace Flecks with the cows udder. Fast food was off limits to his chubby paw, no fries, no burgers would approach his maw.
The lights dimmed down, the thunder struck, what were we doing, we were pushing our luck. But we pushed on regardless and leaping up with aplomb, was Major Hickory Forth, also called Tom. He had a voice like a mouse and whiskey galore, but for himself he had the most dastardly plan instore. Carnal pleasures, he tittered, I can do that in my slee- for the next 30 days I'll have no sex no matter the girls weep.

And then the eyes turned to me, out of the darkness they peered, at old man SMB they delectably leered. I shived and I shrieked, I hide in my cowl, but they pulled me out again, with hook and with jowl.
"No booze for you" they cried- 30 days and clear, it shall be easy you have nothing to fear. But as they rubbed their hands I knew danger was close by, in their dastardly webs me they would seek to tie.

Our pack made in blood, our seperate ways we went, , who would crack first, who would repent. I do not answer to this question but the prize is most desired, mastery of the office will come to those in victory attired.

And so my tale ends, on day 1 as it begun. 30 days sober beings today, how will the time pass, how will it flow. The first hurdle already is approaching, friday night is at hand, clubs without a whiskey seem a difficult proposition. New strategies approach.
But so far feeling good.

08-19-2011, 03:29 PM	#1
Professor Smarmiarty Sent to the cornfield Join Date: Mar 2007 Location: K-space Posts: 9,758	A descent into madness- one man's journal Why did I agree on that faitful night? Where did the mirth strand me once it had flowed away? A simple gentleman's agreement in tophat attire, we spat and we shook on terms most dire. For Scooty Mcgee, smokes down the drain, no easy release from his lifelong pain. For scooty was born with eyes at a cross, without his cigarettes he was at a loss. Next down the line, with a shake and a shudder, was Horace Flecks with the cows udder. Fast food was off limits to his chubby paw, no fries, no burgers would approach his maw. The lights dimmed down, the thunder struck, what were we doing, we were pushing our luck. But we pushed on regardless and leaping up with aplomb, was Major Hickory Forth, also called Tom. He had a voice like a mouse and whiskey galore, but for himself he had the most dastardly plan instore. Carnal pleasures, he tittered, I can do that in my slee- for the next 30 days I'll have no sex no matter the girls weep. And then the eyes turned to me, out of the darkness they peered, at old man SMB they delectably leered. I shived and I shrieked, I hide in my cowl, but they pulled me out again, with hook and with jowl. "No booze for you" they cried- 30 days and clear, it shall be easy you have nothing to fear. But as they rubbed their hands I knew danger was close by, in their dastardly webs me they would seek to tie. Our pack made in blood, our seperate ways we went, , who would crack first, who would repent. I do not answer to this question but the prize is most desired, mastery of the office will come to those in victory attired. And so my tale ends, on day 1 as it begun. 30 days sober beings today, how will the time pass, how will it flow. The first hurdle already is approaching, friday night is at hand, clubs without a whiskey seem a difficult proposition. New strategies approach. But so far feeling good.