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[Iituem]

It's 4 in the morning and I'm in a crazy state of mind.  Let's see what happens.


You shove your door open with your shoulder, dropping the key as you fiddle with the stuck lock - you trip, slip, and bang your head on the counter.  You swear loudly, then again more quietly.  It doesn't help, the blind dog down the hallway started barking.  He won't shut up for ten minutes now.  You pick yourself up; the key fell onto the door jamb, which you stepped on.  It's snapped in half.  Next time you leave your place, you'll need to find a key cutter.  Or maybe a locksmith.

Your head is killing you, from the day and from the counter.  You drag yourself over to the couch and reach for your oldest, most reliable habit.

w)  A bottle of scotch.  The tumbler's a little sticky and there's some left over from last night, but you pour the dregs into it anyway.
p)  Four little white pills.  It's double the painkiller dosage you're supposed to take, but it gets you through the headaches and you know they always under-egg the dosage on a pack.  It's hard to kill yourself with pills by accident.
c)  Your last line of cocaine.  It's normally more of a morning habit, to get you through the day, but right now you need the clarity and release.
g)  A scratch card, under the coffee table leg.  You'll have to rustle up a penny to scratch the silvery surface off.  Maybe today you'll win.  It's no casino, but it scratches the itch.  You make that pun every time you think about this.
s)  A pack of cigarettes.  You're trying to cut down.  Tariffs being what they are, it's expensive.  You think you'll smoke three in quick succession.

[StrawBarrel]

g

[Iituem]

Scratch scratch scratch - there's a story that goes like that.


Gill, you stretch down and reach under the coffee table, bumping your head (again) on the glass and causing your coppery red hair to fall down in front of your eyes.  You blow it up and out of your face while you extricate the scratch card and bring it victoriously back up to the couch with you.  You fumble around in your jeans pocket for your wallet and have to wedge it out; you always over-fill your wallet with cards and receipts, but you despise handbags.  Apart from cards (mostly library or expired discount cards) and receipts, there's not a lot in said wallet, but you find a tuppence coin and start scratching at the five little silver panels - you need three of a kind to win anything.

Star... Smiling Pig...  Shell... come on, give me something here... yes!  Shell again...  Monkey.

You rip up the scratch card and toss it over the couch in disgust.  Another quid wasted, there.  At least with three in a row you could have gotten another tenner from the newsagent, played again.  Still, you've got that itch needs scratching... puns, puns, puns.  One day you'll come up with a new one.

i)  You've got a bit of cash.  Head across the street to the newsagent and buy another scratch card.
ii)  Turn the telly on, you think there's a late re-run of last week's grand prix you didn't watch.  You could place bets with yourself on the top three.
iii)  Just go to bed, it's been a train wreck of a day.

[Shadowclaw777]

i): compulsive gambling, here we go.

[ATHATH]

iii, we need our sleep.

[VoidSlayer]

i)

I have a good feeling about this time!  Ha ha ...

[StrawBarrel]

iii) Dream about gambling.

[Kashyyk]

i) Bad habit ho!

[Harry Baldman]

i)

We've been doing these for a while, we have to get lucky someday!

[Funk]

i)

We've been doing these for a while, we have to get lucky someday!

+1

[Gwolfski]

i)
We've been doing these for a while, we have to get lucky someday!

+1

+q

[Iituem]

Overslept today.  Feeling awful.  Need to buy a can of acrylic sealer.


You pick yourself up and head out of the door - managing to stop it with your foot at the last minute!  You head back in, rustle around until you find an old sock you left lying around, and use it to subtly wedge the door open - you can't afford to get locked out of the house at this time of night.

The dog still hasn't stopped barking.  Each yelp is a dagger in your skull.  You make it downstairs, leaning on the wall for support; at least your key for the building's front door is still working.

Hazy lights fill your vision.  The street isn't the busiest this time of night, but it's still a main road and there are plenty of shops and eateries, all with glaring off-yellow lighting.  The kebab shop opposite your block of flats has amazingly green-yellow pictures of burgers and pizzas that look astoundingly unappetising.  It's not late enough in the evening for anyone to be desperate for a kebab.  You start to cross the road when a red people carrier buzzes down the road, way over the speed limit, and you duck back onto the pavement.  Guess they don't know about the speed camera at the bottom of the hill.

Three doors down, you make your way into the newsagents.  It's the woman behind the counter today.  Tight bun, brown hair, glasses, pale skin.  You've lived here for two years and you don't know her name.  The scratch cards are by the counter, but you have £8 in your wallet.

g) Spend it all on scratchcards.  You really need a win tonight.
gg)  You're hungry.  Get an overpriced 'meal deal' and five cards, have a shitty sandwich and a sugary drink.
ggg)  Gotta keep this in check.  Get a 'meal deal', a magazine and two cards, try and play it off like you don't have a problem.

[Puppyguard]

gg

[hector13]

g

[Shadowclaw777]

gg; instead be a hipster and go to a place that only serves vegetarian food, need to get that healthy carbs, something something, the food you eat affects your mind.