I spent five hours in the E.R. tonight partially because of you. I just wanted you to know that. I'll be on antibiotics for a week. Someone stamp "stupid" across my forehead for two weeks ago. Or was it three weeks? I don't care to remember anymore.
Did you get it from Roxie? Or how about another one of your bar hoes? You're going to rot away in bars, rum pouring from your pores - you'll be famous for rotting away in bars. Isn't there something else better to be famous for? I'll never forget the look on the bouncer's face that night. He pities you, just as he pities any other alcoholic who sees his disease but makes a million excuses about getting help.
Very cruel, very pedestrian - all of your lies. I've a medication to cure some of them.
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