I’ve Only Died of Alcohol Poisoning Once
I know all you guys wanna make a big deal about this, but don’t. It’s completely unnecessary. I mean, I’ve only died of alcohol poisoning once, and believe me, it’s not gonna happen again, I promise.
Didn’t we all laugh at my funny antics that night? When I tripped over my own feet and broke that coffee table, then staggered to the window and put my head through it? Wasn’t that hilarious? Or Bill, weren’t you laughing when I called your sister that terrible name? I remember you smirking. Don’t let the end result of that night deter you guys from the early on hilarity that I myself had performed, because I’m funny. I’m the life of the party!
I was mixing alcohol; that was the problem. If I had just stuck to beer instead of accommodating it with whiskey, vodka, gin, and tequila, nothing bad would ever have happened. I learned my lesson. You’re preaching to the choir now. Everyone can just get off my back, please.
We all know I’m up to no good when I’m mixing different types of liquor with my beer. Liz, remember when I urinated in your closet? That night I was drinking gin. Terry, I was drinking vodka that time I laughed hysterically in the middle of your son’s Bris ceremony. And Frank, I know you’re wife doesn’t want to see me again for the rest of her life, but try to explain to her that I was drinking Rumplemintz that night, ok?
You know what? I don’t know why you guys let me drink so much anyway. You guys of all people should know how I get when there’s an ample amount of booze to be had. Nobody thought to say, ‘Hey Tim, slow it down,’ or ‘Maybe we should hide the liquor bottles from Tim.’ No. Nobody said anything like that. You just let me drink and drink and drink. I’m placing my blame on this fiasco on all of you, not me. Some friends you are. You guys are dicks.