Call me, BOND, James... er, no, my name is Nik.
Yes, I live in Ottawa, or as we call it, Puke City. A town
where a man can't walk three feet without a wino high on Pledge
leaning over and turning your shoes a new colour.
It was friday. The sun was broiling down on me like a big
yellow firey egg. I was hammered. I'd been drinking since breakfast.
Scope. Peppermint. Blue. They say when you drink Scope you've
reached rock bottom, but I don't believe them. Scope is a man's
drink. The kind of beverage that say "Hey, I may be a moronic drunken
slob, but I've got nice minty breath." I saw these dames walking down
the street. You know the kind: blond, blue eyes aryan nazi women.
I looked left, then right. Then up. Then I looked into my
pants. Yes, it was all up to me, I had to confront these evil blonde
she-devils from hell. I quickly changed into my uniform in a near by
phone booth. I emerged: PUKE MAN.
Able to vomit.