Thanks to /u/slackerdude for this sample.
It hurts. It all hurts. The alcohol should be dulling the pain, yet no.
You lift your head up from the unvcaring, stained wood bar, hearing some schmuck belting out Nickleback at the top of his lungs. He’s trying, yet the off notes, the uncaring acoustics and fellow drunks aren’t helping.
A morose alcohol gatekeeper stares down at you, wiping your drool and placing some peanuts in it’s place. Pickled eggs glow in the dead light. All of your problems exist still, yet you have escaped them through drink.
Fighting your limp tongue muscles the best you can, you look at him and attempt to order.
And that’s why the makers of this whisky are dicks. How am I, an average person, suppose to pronounce this sober, let alone drunk? It’s not fair I tell you. I need to go…
View original post 337 more words