It's 9:50 a.m. and the urge just hit me to hop in my wheelchair and cruise over to the fridge to crack open one of the bottles of Bud Light that have been in there since the Super Bowl.
YEAH. Needless to say, alcohol doesn't have a huge place in my life, but I've been cooped up inside this house for damn near a year and I swear to God I'm crawling out of my skin up in this beeyaaaiiitch! I woke up restless, and I'm feeling like F*** IT. F*** THEM, F*** IT and F*** EVERYTHING WITH IT. Shiii, mayne, I f***in dare me to drink beer at ten O'clock in the morning. I double dare me to. I'll do it man, I'm an ANIMAL! A caged beast, bro! Yall best back the f*** back, there, wardy, before you get rabies, or like acid reflux or f***ing chicken pox! FO' REAL, I got the instincts of some kind of crazy dangerous mongoose badger or like a f***ing hippopotamus with spikes and fire and snakes and shit all over it!
(all a sudden I'm dead silent,
<-- mad doggin everybody with that thousand yard stare, like I've been in the bush too long)
I got three mother 'lovin beers to drink, hoss! They gotta last me all day though because I'm stuck here. I gotta pace myself, man, creepin up on yall cute and fuzzy bunnies all slow and steady like I'm some kind of f***ing crazy dangerous ass racing tortoise with spikes and fire and snakes and shit all over it, totin' mad scorpions with LASER GATS FOR NIPPLES, BRO! F***IN F*** YEAH DUDE, WHAT!
SOMEBODY GET ME THE F*** OUT OF HERE!