"you're a posh spazz!" jeremy from 'peep show'

I could just fuck a coffee table at this point. raw, and bored and horny with too much apathy to do anything about it. i'm too restless to even focus on a wank so what's the point in starting. my ability to focus has receeded backwards and i can't take a minute of sitting still. i had three novels on the go, all of them stillborn projects that I couldn't stay with. have i been treating anxiety this whole time with booze? i could glean through stacks of books with my ass planted firmly on the couch and a beer in the other hand. i don't think it's fair to get me to stop drinking when it's clearly helping me learn more... more about... i lean over to the table beside the couch: a joey stefano autobiography, a picture book of tattoos and a collection of hunter s. thompson articles. there goes that theory.
anthony padded down the stair clutching his stomach.
"For godssakes, if you cancel that hernia surgery you're guts are going to splatter into your balls!" He whined and cinched the belt on his robe tighter.
"I told you, I can't go this week. I have to have this presentation or everything's going on hold for months."
"Listen, can't they get someone else to present it? I'm wholly positive that your intestines are poking out somewhere in there."
He frowned and rubbed at his shoulders. "It's cold in here."
"Don't you touch that thermostat again! I'm dying down here and you're just cold from going septic."
"You think I'm going septic?!"
"No... maybe... let's call the nurse line."
"I can't talk to someone about... you know..."
"Your enlarged testicles?"
"Shut up! Ah forget it... I'm sleepy. Move over. "
He didn't give me a lot of time to clear out and pathetically bumped me over by going limp. "How's the blood pressure there buddy?"
"Fine... woo... it's all sparkly in here all of a sudden."
Now I'm worried. I turned him around to lay down on the pillows. "Anthony, you don't look good. At all. And not in that 'you're old and look bad' way, like, for real, i'm calling an ambulance."
"No... No! I'm fine."
"Stand up right now."
He wiggled a little, raised half an ass cheek and dropped down twice as fast.
"If you had your license you could drive!"
"Hey, well who gives a fuck, let's teach me to drive right now! Prick. You just don't want to pay the $40 for the ambulance."
"Fourty dollars! No! I'll drive... Omph... I... I feel..."
"Feel like some emergency surgery? You douche. Here I am, sober as the day I was born and now I have to take your lumpy guts to emergency."
He looked at me and didn't make a move to respond. I made the call and walked to the front door to undo the deadbolt. Might as well keep it open so they can see throught the screen door. I turned around and Anthony looked sulky but horribly pale.
"You OK?"
"I don't feel well."
"I know. Because?"
"Because.... I don't feel well and I don't think you should rub it in."
"You want me to bring some bottled water with?"
"Oh that would be so nice." He looked cheered by the thought of avoiding hospital water.
"You want the water, you tell me what I need to hear. I can hear the siren."
"You would make me do that?"
"No I'm just taking the piss out of you... I know I'm right and deep down that's all the justification I'll need." I made a sweet little kisskiss noise at him and he looked like he wanted to barf. He might actually need to barf. Better go get the garbage pail. Lovely. How many nights can I spend in emerge over a period of 6 months? Quite a bit let me tell you. I wonder if Anthony can plug up being sick until we get there. That ought to speed things along nicely.