The Disappointment

You stumble your way into the kitchen. Both your parents are at work, so there's no one around to shame you for having a breakfast beer. Luckily, Dad keeps the fridge stocked with beer, so in no time at all you're pouring a cold one down your throat. Within a few minutes, the waves of nausea are replaced by a comfortable buzz. You always feel it faster on an empty stomach.

You return to your room, where your phone continues to vibrate relentlessly. You snatch it up and stare at the screen. It's your manager again. You let out a long sigh before finally answering the call. "Hey Morgan, what's up?" you greet him, with faked perkiness.

"Heeey buddy," chirps Morgan, in his typical shit-eating tone. "Where are you? You were rostered to start at nine this morning."