The phone was broken, but he was sick of buying new ones. He grabbed his screwdriver and contemplated how to attack the problem. It was probably beyond his ability, but he was damn good with a screwdriver. After drinking three of them it wasn’t fixed, but he didn’t care anymore.
John was the master of his universe. He controlled his schedule. He would sometimes miss meetings just to show the others there who was really important.
He came and went as he pleased, and everyone had to react to his timeline, or he would ignore them out of existence. Most people couldn’t handle being treated like that, but John didn’t care. It was all about him damn it.
At least that’s what he told himself as he downed the rest of the bottle. As he staggered down the street, he wondered how much he could hock his AA pin for.
The layers of butter and flour stared at Frank, daring him to resist their crunchy flaky goodness. He knew taking one bite would be the end of him. Instead, he ate the whole thing. Frank was in for a few rounds on his porcelain throne, but damn it was good.