Slaying of the beast


Dear Tom,

There are nights when I will sit up smoking pack after pack of USA Golds. There’s nothing I can do about it. I just sit in the glow of my computer monitor with the slowly emptying carton resting on the edge of the drafting table I use for a desk, and my ashtray filling up. I would take a picture for you some time, but I don’t know that you’d like to see what’s become of me. The circles under my eyes have dipped below my cheek bones and I fear they’re what’s attracting the termites. Not normal ones either; legs the size of sausages. I kid you not.

The ashtray fills up and eventually I’m stubbing out ashes on filters. More drink is required when my throat gets really dry and so I have to find an all night liquor store - not an easy task, when you live in the sticks - and get myself some good gin. Half the bottle is gone by the time I crash through my front door and while I’ve had to remodel the kitchen several times, the termites just keep coming back and so I am now left with no alternative but to cancel my account. I’m at the end of my rope here man. You’ve gotta understand.

Regretfully yours,

-BML