Fear my wrath…

…for the last nicotine patch has fallen off, its body leeched of the hell’s brew that has kept me sane these last eight weeks. I can feel the last tendrils of it dissipating into fog, then mist, then vapors… and deep, deep below (where the gators of the id reside) sleeps a Thing uneasily.

Fair warning.

9 thoughts on “Fear my wrath…”

  1. “Good for you, Moe.”
    If we can still say that in three days, then we’ll be saying something. Until then, I’ll be trying to not casually decapitate people. 🙂

  2. Good news. Kick ass. Celebrate. Kill people if you have to, but try to make them Republicans, okay?
    …joke. It’s a joke. Just a very small, bad joke. *backs away carefully* *eyes ML warily*
    Seriously, congratulations. You da man!

  3. This is a public service announcement (sans guitar):
    Screw you, Moe.
    Now I guess I gotta buy a fast car, put on my lead boots and take a long, long drive.
    But seriously, congrats. Hope the monkey doesn’t come back soon. I quit smoking once; it was hell, but I’d only been smoking for a year or so. Try taking up something seriously aerobic that rips the callous tissue out of your lungs and ensures that any further cigarettes will be just like your first one. The embarrassment, at least, will keep you out of trouble.

  4. Preliminary congratulations. As for me, I’ve been off just long enough that when I slip up and bum a cigarette at a party, I wake up the next morning feeling like I gargled with gravel. That said, every pen I own looks like it was left in a kennel – haven’t broken the oral fix.
    I’ll check the news periodically – if a Dean meetup ends in a bloodbath, with a winged and horned and nicotine-starved VRWC Death Beast as the main suspect, I’ll know who’s to blame.

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