That Electric Cowboy kind of Drunk

There I was, no I don't know how I got there, but I was there all the same. It was dark. Too dark to remember that I'd left the stove on. Too dark for me to see that maybe for once I wasn't alone in the world, and there might be a light at the end of the tunnel for me. Yeah, it was crazy, and yeah I was drunk from the six pack of O'Douls Andrew helped me slam before the sun went down, but I'll tell you this- I was there, I was really in there for a minute or two. The wind was cold, my fishnet stockings clung to my thighs like the filters of a thousand camels were sewn to my lips. I was naked from the chest up, a flowery looking fella had ripped my turtle neck in two places. Duble helped me loosen the strings to cut the neck loose. I've never been so lost. The only thing keeping me going was that I was going some place. A place better than the place that I'd come from. I didn't have a beard yet, and I was losing my hair earlier than expected, but it didn't matter: the place I was going didn't care about stuff like that. The place I was going laughed at things like when I was in first grade I cut that girls hair during craft time, or when I was 19 how I smothered that bum on a sidestreet in New York. It was all potatoes to them. After years of waiting, there I finally was. The Electric Cowboy. Expensive beer, a mechanical bull, and all the chubby waitresses in chaps I could feast my grubby little eyes on. We had a big time.