His sits, staring at the four glasses in front of him and blinks his eyes several times before reaching out in an attempt to pick one of them up, he fails miserably and crashes to the floor in a heap.
“Shows over Macready, go home!” A voice says from above him, he slowly and awkwardly pulls himself to his feet using the stool and the bar, he looks at the barman and sways from side to side, trying to focus his vision on him.
“Fuck you Joe, I’m still good,” he slurs…
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