Right now, there is a twenty-two year-old man sprawled out on my living room couch with his face positioned sourly, a mere 6 inches away from a puddle of vomit. The sick is his. He owns it and he will most certainly clean it up in the morning. As I write this he is mumbling incoherently, inadvertanly blowing bubbles as he speaks.

For those of you who are unaware, I work at Marty's Package Store in lovely and exotic downtown Bristol. In fact I'm here right now. It's 5:40pm on Thursday evening do you know where your drunks are? They're right outside the door drinking cheap booze placed in paper sacks by my hand. I figured this would be a great time to give you an idea of just what goes on during the second half of my shift. Tonight I will be keeping a log of all the goings on here. I will be updating it as the events of my night unfold. Be forewarned, Marty's customer stories are not for the faint of heart. If you are pregnant or fitted with a pace maker, look away now. Now on with the show.