You know what’s fun? Knocking back those first couple of shots and then realizing that not only did you not eat today (that plastic container of green beans from the refrigerator that I had for breakfast doesn’t count), but there isn’t really anything to eat tonight, either. Good ole’ goin’ to bed drunk.
Actually, that paragraph was just to upset you. I ate today. And I haven’t even started drinking yet. I just wanted you to read it, and shake your head all sad, and go, “Oh, that Ray—I really worry about him.” And then you’ll gather all your friends, and we can have an intervention for me, but because I rock so much ass, it will turn into a wild party instead, we’ll invite all the neighbors, get everybody wasted, and then break out the camcorders. From there, I’ll sell the DVDs on late-night TV for the low, low price of only 1999, and if you order now, you’ll also get this wild keychain in the shape of that notorious turkey leg! And the stuff that’s too hardcore to put on the DVDs, I’ll use that to blackmail important people.
And then I’ll just sit back and enjoy the good life, right up until I have that heart attack. And I’ll come to for just a few moments in the ambulance, I’ll be all, “Tell my wife that I love her.” And they’ll all just laugh and tease me, because my wife left years ago—she got tired of living with such a fat mess of shit that just hung around eating tacos all day and stinking up the bedroom at night. And I’ll realize that none of it was worth it; none of the fame, the glory, the money. Because what did it cost me? My love, my friends and family, my pride, my self respect. And then, just before I can repent of my evil ways, I’ll die.
And then, at my funeral, everyone will start to party, because even dead, I rock that much ass. And my illegitimate child can take over where I left off, but hopefully he won’t make the same mistakes I did.