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This was fucking pathetic.
"Anusher one," Victor slurred, slamming his beer glass down hard. Today was the shittiest goddamn day ever, and every shitty day felt like that to him. His life was just cheap thrills and major fuckups, from banging his first whore to getting his ass kicked in an alley. Now it was a new low - he just got thrown out on the street, in the rain, from his crappy apartment. So what if he didn't pay rent? Finding a job sucked! Nobody wanted him, which was bullshit. He was hot, charming, he's screwed dudes and chicks all over. Wouldn't that make him a great receptionist or some shit? They were fucking morons, he didn't need them. He'd start his own business, he thought, pounding his fist on the bar. His own goddamn business!
The bartender glared at him. "I think you're cut off, buddy. I'll call you a cab."
Victor sneered. "A cab? Hell no, I gotta drink away thish bullshi' day!"
The bartender just rolled his eyes and refilled his glass. Victor gulped his drink like the pathetic mess he was. This was rock bottom for sure - no home, no money, no job, just drowning himself in booze and self-pity. He was a first-class fuckup. All those big plans, being rich and powerful - what a freaking joke. Here he was, a worthless deadbeat drunk making an ass of himself. How much more pathetic could it get?
The bartender eyed him warily. "Maybe lay off the booze tonight, buddy. I'll call you a cab."
But Victor shook his head, leaning forward. “Imagine it, I build an empire! I make millions of dollars, and I squander everyone who said I was worth dirt.”
"Mmhmm, sure pal," the bartender humored him disinterestedly, wiping the bar.
Seeing that disinterest in his eyes, like everyone’s given him so far, made him slam his face into the counter. “Anyone would be lucky to have me!” He declared unconvincingly, breaking into another pathetic sob moments later. This was his… 5th? 6th? Drink, he hadn’t even the audacity to tell the bartender he couldn’t afford any of the drinks. Surely he hit rock bottom, would the bartender even notice if he slipped out without paying? Oh, it was awful! He must’ve looked awful, snot running down his nose, eyes swollen in tears, face flushed, just sobbing into his snot-covered sleeve as he buries his face into his arms. Someone would kick him out soon for sobbing too hard, he told himself he didn’t care, but he did care. Fuck, he really really *really* cared. He should be some dignified gentleman, owning an empire and ruling the world with his wealth. But here he was, homeless, broke, drunk, and feeling like he might vomit soon. Victor sat up blearily, wiping his running nose on his already filthy sleeve. He swayed unsteadily on the barstool as he tried to collect himself.
"Hey fella, I really think you should settle up your tab and be on your way," the bartender said, eyeing him warily.
"Settle up? Oh, oh yes, of course," Victor slurred, patting his pockets exaggeratedly. "Seems I've misplaced my wallet, old chap." He let out an awkward laugh.
The bartender's eyes narrowed. "Right. Well then, let's you and I step outside while we figure this out."
Victor's bloodshot eyes widened in alarm. "No no, that won't be necessary! I just need...to...find..." he trailed off, glancing around shiftily for an escape.
In his drunken state, Victor knocking over a bowl of peanuts was enough of a distraction for him to make a break for the door. He upended a couple more glasses and barstools behind him to slow the angry bartender's pursuit. Bursting out into the cold night air, Victor took off running...or at least attempted to in his thoroughly inebriated state. He careened into trash cans and alley walls as he zigzagged aimlessly down the block. Ducking into a doorway, he paused to catch his breath, gagging and suppressing the urge to vomit. This was a new low, even for him. Stealing drinks he couldn't afford, getting chased out like a petty criminal into the streets. Victor looked down at his disheveled state in disgust. When had he become this pathetic shell of a human? All he had to show for his life was a soiled suit, a pounding headache, and tears still leaking from his bloodshot eyes as he stumbled alone into the darkness. He forced himself away from the doorway into an alleyway. Victor collapsed against a grimy alley wall, gagging as the alcohol finally caught up with him. He vomited violently, barely managing to lean over before the putrid mess spurted out, splattering the ground and his own shoes. Choking and sputtering, Victor started to cry again, tears and snot mixing.
"Look at me...I'm so pathetic..." he moaned, his words slurring. He tried to wipe his face with his sleeve but only succeeded in spreading the mess further.
Victor's stomach heaved again and he vomited up more burning bile. The sour stench overwhelmed his senses as he trembled and sobbed on his hands and knees in the alley muck.
"Worthless...I'm worthless..." he cried, punching the ground weakly. The violent heaving left him lightheaded and disoriented.
Victor tried to stand but immediately stumbled, his legs wobbling like jelly but fails. Sprawled pathetically in the alley, soaked in vomit and tears, Victor had never felt lower. A spoiled child in a grown man's body. He thought back to his big plans, his dreams of wealth and prestige. What a joke. He couldn't even stand up or clean his own face. As he lay there sniveling and whimpering, Victor wondered bleakly if he'd ever drag himself out of this abyss of failure and sorrow. Right now, laying broken in the gutter, it felt like rock bottom.
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