//------------------------------//
// 8/3/2010 
// Story: The Last Days of Parrsboro 
// by Eakin 
//------------------------------//

8/3/2010

I’m going to be so fucking hung over tomorrow.

Still, a man loses his boat and the least you can do is buy him a drink, right? And nobody wants to drink alone, so you have to buy one for yourself too, right? And at some point it makes sense to just tell the bartender to just leave the bottle, right? Fuck, Robin’s going to kill me.

The worst fucking part is that a little part of me was happy when I heard the news from Jim. I love the guy like a brother, y’know? But with the fucking fish the way they are these days, I’m glad there’s one less team out there fighting for the scraps. It’s bullshit is what it is. When I used to go out this time of year with Dad the fish were practically jumping into the nets for us. Now we’re lucky if we come back at the end of the day with enough of a catch to cover expenses, much less enough to actually live on. Nobody can give me a good reason why the fishery’s in the state it is. And some of the fish we do bring up... I don’t know. Fish aren’t supposed to look like that.

God, I’m so fucking drunk. I gotta go to bed.