The Diary Of a Drunk (In-character-story)

[That1Drunk 0]

Day 1:

Vodka, it's the first thing I remember smelling on my breath as I awoke to the sound of waves gently washing over the sand. That's about all I remember, not my name, not how I ended up in Russia (At least I think that's where I am.) of all God's forsaken places, and by the look of things I got alot more to worry about than the authorities asking to see my papers.

As I stood, the pounding in my head ceased to give me a moment's rest, so I trudged along looking for some place to eat, maybe even a warm bed, but as I wandered along I came upon a small village with sick, diseased looking people, hunched over a corpse and by God, what were they doing? Well, they were eating the unfortunate son of a bitch! So I took cover, I hid in a bush and made my way into what appeared to be an empty house.

I began sweating, my heart pounded as my brain tried to make sense of things. Did I drink more than vodka the night before? Quiety, I crept towards the window, raising my head enough to just peer out it's dirty, stained glass, and I knew that what I was seeing, was real. I held back the vomit that suddenly decided to come up my throat, was it out of a disgust? Or a product of my illicit habits? Who cares at this point! Anyway, as I was hunched over, with hands over my mouth, I saw several cans of coke before me, and beside it some crap pistol made by the Ruskies, I think, but still I praised God! For now, I think I'm just gonna rest. I'm gonna prop the door with this chair, and take a nap on the floor, with a gun in my hand...So, if you're reading this--it probably means those bastards broke through, and maybe, just maybe I will have left you a coke and a gun with no ammo.

(Continued later!)