He wakes up in the morning, realizes he’s drunk off his ass from last night’s marathon bender, but puts on the best clothes he can find that doesn’t look like it’s been in the hamper too long, grabs his keys, and heads to work.

Everyone knows he’s trashed, not just because he’s loud and obnoxious, but because the stench of bourbon on his breath lingers within a 12 foot radius of him.

He thinks he is valuable, because nobody does what he does.

That’s what he thinks.

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