The Lost works of Andrew McFing

A lace of machines by Andrew McFing

I got out of bed today at nine A. M. my stomach had bloated with piss and I wattled to the toilet to drain myself for the new day. Beams of glaring light spread out of the blinds and I screwed the sun out and closed my eyes as the urine left me in a orgasmic release of pressure. How much did I drank last night? Empty corona bottles were randomly placed throughout his home.My head throbbed and his eyes were blood shot and puffy. Damn tired, and It's a work day, already running late, it took too long to piss. I grab a couple slices of cheese from my dwindling supply along with a triple threat energy drink. I ignored the healt warnings on the can, heart attack, panic attack, hot flashes, pounding headaches, all where potential side effects. Ignore the warnings because I need the energy to go on, to keep my back to the grindstone, keep the machine rolling along. The stuff slurped into me as I drove sixty miles an hour down the forty zone watching for the fuzz with crackling eyes, yes this potent juice would be illegal soon, no doubt. My stomach began to buck in protest like it always does, but I had this foriegn inhalant that released this odd green gas that calms the stomach for a few minutes. I fished it out of my coat and I railed a dose. The stuff is like a minty caffine, it makes your vision waver for a few minutes when it first kicks in. Again I get lucky and no cop pulls me over. I screech into the parking, finish off my energy drink, and I rush in to work. The machines roar and gyrate all around me, one must be carefull not to be sucked up into one of them and turned into gristle. I'm feeling good, but at three dollers a drink, I can't keep going on this energy drink lifestyle. The work is long and brutal, I can hardly stand it. I work a ten and a half hour shift, fighting through a overwhelming about of work, and there is still much more to be done when I am finally allowed to leave after a hideous tongue lashing for how "Lazy" I am for not getting rome built in a day. They are sucking the life out of me, and padding they're overly fat spirits with more wine and whipped cream. It's back home now, almost every car on the road driving five to fifteen miles under the speed limit. I channel surfed and sang along with the songs I liked when I found them. Somehow my voice was smooth and fluid and I crooned out to Neil Young and Nirvana on a couple of the retro rock stations. Finally home I unlocked the door and took four steps to the couch. I plopped down apon that welcoming fixture, too tired to piss, I fell into a peacefull eight minute slumber, then the phone rang, shattering any illusion of via rest. The cordless home phone was ringing unseen in the other room, I had no idea where I had last left it, I tend to pace while talking. I managed to track it down to the laundry room/ second branch of my library but not before the ringing stopped and the answering machine kicked on.

Other Lost Losts of McFing.