#106

Author's Comment on #106:
Once upon a time, when I was but a wee lad, first of all I didn't drink, so any comparisons here are moot. However when I got alittle older, I still didn't, but then finally when I did reach that age when you do whatever you do, there was never any feelings of remorse, regret, deep seeded paranoia, shakes, feeling sick or any signs of a throbbing fucking headache that threatened to tear me a new rectum in the middle of my forehead the day after a sauce-convention. No, all was peachy. But then, it changed. Suddenly. Almost over night. Well, I'm fairly sure it was over night, cause it was morning, and I couldn't remember feeling like dying the evening before. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't remember much inbetween that and waking up. Everyone else could though. I was feeling like a raccoon that just had a love affair with the left tyre of a truck, and most certainly this was the last day of my life. I had to die after sustaining such injuries, surely? Also, why did I have this bad case dementia? This was when I knew. I'd become old.