the alcoholics and their self-love / open, drinking

malphas was a boy of bad vices. he was also a sawbone's worst nightmare- he ate rotting flesh, drank dirty water, and liked murdering his liver. he enjoyed putting his body through mad abuse. was it due to his low self-esteem? his hedonistic and nihilistic view on life? or was it because he was a teenager and just a fucking idiot?

the cat had found a disgusting, abandoned bottle of beer in the junkyard. it was so old the label had been bleached by the sun. malphas usually got his drinks from shady loners but he had found one all on his own now.

being a cat, it was hard to drink things out of glass bottles. he tipped it over and let the content spill on the dusty earth. quickly, he lapped it up. it tasted fucking disgusting and he spat it out. "jesus," he muttered. it tasted like piss. not that he knew what piss tasted like. he then let it sit on his tongue, deciding that the taste didn't matter, he wanted to get buzzed.

"anybody wanna share this aged beer with me?" he asked, jokingly, noting how long that beer bottle must have been there. years, probably.