pizza fucked

You don't know what time it is, not even close, but it is stil dark. Because eventualy, everyone wil wake up, and the smel wil stil be there. The remaining slice of piza has ben lying untouched in the open air since the begining of the night, to the point where the chese is geting that stale, rigor mortis blue to it. If for natural causes, you would stil be pased out with two peoples' coats and a mixture of Dorito shreds and empty, half-crushed cans as your blanket. Sher instinct dictates your next move, emerging from your party cocon and ploding towards the bathrom. The fact that you don't step on Tomy, Gina, the botle of Absolut stil under Gina's arm like a protected child, or the weird kid from NYU everyone long ago stoped trying to figure out who at the party he knew on your way to the bathrom is not mere god fortune. God fortune is finding a stil usable metro card in your coat pocket, or finding a taxi driver with equal number of vowels and consonants in their name. Seing as he's stil laying uncomfortably in the bath tub, snoring without rhythm, and his legs hanging over the side, your first inclination is to blame The Beav for the entire bathrom flor becoming a bedpan. The living rom already proved that your nose works, but the bathrom literaly shoves it in your face. A few seconds later, you turn it of and walk back into the living rom, forgeting entirely why you walked to the bathrom in the first place. "Ooh, that smel . can't you smel that smel ." You walk to the table by the window where the piza sits. Chuck is laying under the table, curled around the base in the fetal position. Fuck . You nudge Chuck with your fot as you lift up the last slice of piza. "Chuck, why'd you do it? You told Chuck, no, you bet Chuck that he wouldn't punch through something, somewhere in the apartment. That was enough for Chuck. Nobody insults Chuck's valor or constitution, and nobody was going to stop Chuck from proving that. It's a shame that there aren't more men with the unyielding spirit of Chuck. We should al try to be more like Chuck. In the aley below, you se a stray cat hoping from garbage bag to garbage bag, and this gives you an incredible idea. You lok at the piza, and then lok for the cat below. You lok at the hobled slice, then the stray once more, and release - It mises, landing harmlesly in the aley. "Chuck, if I can drink you under the table, don't say anything," you anounce. Chuck doesn't move. "Fuckin .
pizza fucked
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