Opinion: Coronavirus let me live my dream of being a fat drunk. Now what do I do?

All for Ed.

When the news first arrived, I thought it had to be a joke. A deadly virus that no one could see was causing the entire world to shut down.
 
Then came the stay at home orders. 
 
Let me back up just a little before I tell the rest of this story. For most of my adult life, I’ve had a simple dream—namely that I could sit in my apartment, eat whatever I liked, and drink till I was so ripped I could shit my pants and not realize it or care.
 
Back to the story. The stay at home orders. This fulfilled part one of my prophecy—the part about me sitting in my apartment and not having to leave. Nice, I thought. 
 
Then I saw stuff on the news about “essential businesses,” that were staying open. Grocery Stores. Check. That’s where a lot of my food was going to come from. Then I saw Taco Bell listed. Check again, only better.
 
Finally, they said that liquor stores were also essential. No shit, I thought. Checkmate. 
 
Just when I thought my life couldn’t possibly get any better, they announced that I’d get a government check, just for sitting on my ass at home. What? 
 
Within no time, Uber Eats was bringing me Taco Bell and I was screaming at the dude from behind my plexiglass storm door. He tried to understand me but gave up. It didn’t matter because I was just yelling, “I’m drunk.” 
 
Fast forward a little and now people start talking about “re-opening.” What the fuck is that? I wondered. Apparently, it meant the worst. That fat alcoholism was only a temporary thing and that soon I’d be expected to go back to work and talk to people without being drunk. 
 
Side note: talking to people sober is like a disability for me. I have trouble doing it because I tend to lie a lot in that I won’t tell them to fuck off and that I hate them. When I’m drunk, I have no problem doing that. Also, I shit myself at work one time and human resources said it was “inappropriate,” and “demeaning” to the people I wiped it on. Also that I was “fired.”
 
Another issue I have with going back to work is the clothing crisis. Nobody likes talking about this, but many people like me don’t fit into our regular clothes anymore. Now that we’re so fat, we’ve opted for stretch pants and sweats and sometimes even wearing nothing. The last option is probably the most comfortable except when I burn my nuts with cooking oil when I’m trying to deep fry cheesecake (which doesn’t work, by the way).
 
I think the country might be better off if they used fat drunks to fuel our country. I assume there’s a scientific process by which we could hook up people like me to some kind of energy source and we could provide electricity to others, maybe for free. I imagine this would also fight climate change somehow.
 
In conclusion, I think the only way to put this is that I’ve had my dream ruined by people who would rather stop me from drinking and eating than helping America. So, in a way, I’m just fighting against Hitler, which is good, right? And anyone disagreeing with me is Hitler’s buddy, like the guy who carries his shit around for him and says stuff like, “Oh, Mr. Hitler, can I please hold your nut sack for you while you pee?” 
 
So good job, evil nazis. You’re winning. And yeah, I’m drunk. Super drunk. And I’m about to eat a cake by myself. 
 
UPDATE: I am currently looking for work and would be interested in anything that involves house sitting. Also, I can do long haul trucking and debt collection. Thank you.
 
 
Ed Mountaineer operates on his own, like a rogue agent (whatever that means). We do not endorse his views or support his lifestyle choices. We do print whatever he writes, but that’s not on us.