After a hard day's work with few breaks in between
the tired man went home to rest in his chair and dream.
But, his dreams were awful and nightmarish and usually about work the next day...
"You're late...you're doing it wrong...you're an imbecile!"...his boss would say.
One day, however, the tired man did not go home, he decided to break routine.
The tired man was tired of crashing on a chair, eyes fixated on a screen.
He picked up his phone and dialed some old friends.
"You guys want to see a movie?"...the tired man said.
"Why don't we go out to club and pick up some girls instead?"
Exhausted and worn, the tired man put on new clothes: a button up silk shirt and some jeans that were torn.
But when he got to the club he felt too sluggish to impress, instead he started thinking and began to mourn.
So he drank almost an entire bottle of Jack to flush his thoughts away,
but somewhere in the middle his world changed into something beautiful: the lights, the music, the women..at least that's what his mind would say.
Back and forth every day from work to the club and back again--the new routine was created.
The tired man would be in the club long after his friends got their tabs and paid them.
The days all meshed together into one psychotic, crushing fantasy.
The tired man would drink and drink and commit to acts of misogyny.
But soon there came a day when the tired man became too tired to pass out in the cab.
While talking to a pretty young woman (or so his mind would have him think) he succumbed to the power of his drink, and fell over with nothing to grab.
His friends rushed to the hospital expecting to see their alcohol-poisoned amigo lying in a bed; but,
the doctor informed them that their friend had slipped, hit the counter, and died from a contusion to the head.
