That Perpetual Bar Guy

We here at that guy are filled with hate for our fellow guys, however we do not always feel seething torturous hate. Sometimes we see that guy and are filled with sadness and pity, and want to decapitate him not out of spite but out of mercy. This is the tale of one of someone who should be euthanized for his own good. This is the tale, of that perpetual bar guy.

That perpetual bar guy is a fixture at every bar you go to, always by himself, always looking morose into his drink or staring blankly at some distant wall, the television or something with hollow, blank eyes. He rhtymically drinks from his glass, ordering round after round, never talking to anyone or even acknowledging the presence of anyone around him. The only time that he ever stops this lovely dance of drink and stare is when he decides to go to the bathroom to relieve himself. Upon returning, he mechanically returns to his stool and continues his bicep workout with an ever decreasing glass giving off more ennui than a goth club at night during an eclipse after their parents told them that it was time to go home.

That guy is a miserable alcoholic bastard, but even more so than most miserable alcoholic bastards. Most self pitying alcoholics tend to buy the cheapest of the cheap booze and drink it in the dank solitude of their hovels. Their misery is contained therein, insulating the rest of the populous from their radiation of misery. The only person ever to be exposed to this lethal dose of depression tends to be the delivery boy who comes by and provides sustenance for this sad creature. But as a whole, they are sequestered away from the rest of us.

That guy however breaks free from his fetters and radiates buzzkill radiation all around him. You feel pity towards him. Suddenly, all eyes furtively go to his direction. There are hushed tones and whispers speculating to his origin, as to why he is there, drinking alone by himself, unmoving. Suddenly, this drinking sedentary piece of shit becomes the star of the bar. Everyone watches him, fascinated by his alcoholic, liver damaging ritual, to the point where others start to join in. We have been infected with the sadness, morose quality of his being. We are now all that guy, to a small degree. And yet, still unmoving, still unfazed, still oblivious, continues to drink hypnotically. He is sadder as he craves us, craves to share his misery in his quiet yet overwhelming way until we are all downing our drinks out of utility rather than socialization.

Therefore that guy must be stopped. He must be fed a mixture of arcenic, Drano, bleach, gasoline, anthrax and Moxy cola. He must be put out of his misery because if it does not stop, it will be like that person you slept with and never told anyone. It will spread, and soon, everyone will have it.