A Drunken Day in the Drunken Life of Arthur 'Rectum' O'Neill - J. P. McMenamin
Rectum sat on the bed and held his head in his quivering hands. He had been here before. He was a veteran. A seasoned alcoholic. It was just a matter of holding on, of keeping everything together. His body was like a puppet with the strings cut out. The brain had lost control of the limbs. The legs twitched, the hands trembled and cold sweat ran down the hot feverish skin. Rectum's world was now confined to just one great quest. "Did I bring a bottle home last night?"
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