How to Drink Until Your Ass Bleeds
Hey, you rapidly decaying protoplasmic sacks of calcium and shit, my name is Dr Mona Moore. Obviously, that is not my real name, but I am a real doctor. Don’t feel bad for me, though, because it means I will always have a job, an apartment ten times bigger than yours, and the right to tell you what to do simply because I will always know better. Enjoy my column!
BOLLOCKS TO THE HIPPOCRATIC OATH - HOW TO DRINK YOURSELF TO A BLEEDING ARSE
I had my worst experience in the ER ever this week. I had to extract wads of bloody tissue from a homeless man’s anus after he plugged it to stop himself shitting on the streets. Every few minutes I made an excuse such as—I need more gloves—and ran to wretch with a gasp of fresh air.
I can smell true alcoholics before I see them. I’m not talking about your amateur weekend binge-drinkers; tequila-in-the eye, snorting-vodka, the ‘striving for oblivion’ contingent, or the middle-aged women who down three bottles of red wine a night after they put their kids to bed because they have no joy in their lives. This is the “I want to pickle my brain, bleed from my ass and lose any sense of coherent reality forever” group. They’re the really stinky fuckers. Like ass-wad man.
He drank so much he had scoured the inside of his stomach raw with ulcers, which were bleeding out so quickly it ran straight through the 6.5m of his gut, mixed with shit and leaked all over the street. His brain was so marinated in sweet dark rum that he was blissfully unaware of his own wretchedness. To be fair to him, he was a little embarrassed, which is why he had shoved toilet paper up his arse—a gesture of politeness not to leak in public.