The last drink went down hard. A lot more vicious than the seven that preceded it. The bartender should have kicked me out an hour ago when I played the same song on the jukebox three times in a row. Drunk and disheveled, the epitome of the wasted fool. No money in my pocket and even less sense in my head. City street lights wave and lean with my drunken meanderings. On my way home to celebrate the illusion of the illustrious life that I live.