Luke's Diary: An unlucky man in a zombie apocalypse. Days 601 - 756

Day 662: Tuesday 19th June 2018

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Day 662
Tuesday 19th June 2018

Oh God – my head is killing me. I'm sooooo hung over.

After Mike returned from his run out with Tara yesterday, with two large bottles of vodka, some of us thought we'd have a drink to steady our nerves; however TJ had a few too many and I got a bit carried away also. In fact I got absolutely arseholed. I'm surprised I can remember anything.

Once most of the others had gone to bed TJ and I sat around the island in the kitchen and carried on drinking. Things started off quite civilised. We talked about how we didn't really like each other but that in spite of that we'd always have each other's back. In a weird way we bonded over being expectant fathers and as the discussions continued flowing so did the drinking of neat vodka.

After an hour or so TJ and I were getting rather merry. "TJ," I said, "Why are you such a tw*t? I mean, I'm not asking that cos I want to have a fight. I'm just curious. Is it like some sort of medical condition? You know, like some diagnosis thingy?" TJ shrugged. "I dunno," he said in his merry state, "I am what I am." We then simultaneously started singing 'I am what I am'. "Let me ask you something," said TJ, "Is your c*ck that small because you had some sort of accident when you were a kid? It's like a scientific mystery. I mean there's small c*cks and then there's what you've got. It's like when God made you, he forgot to add on your knob, so he started with the tip of the helmet and then thought 'f*ck this sh*t let's just give him a millimetre and see how he gets on'." I shrugged and then took another swig of vodka. "To be honest when I first saw with you," said TJ, "When first got a glimpse of your tiny todger I didn't think it was real. I thought you'd lost your original one in some sort of accident and that you'd just stuck a little acorn down there to make do." "Well," I said, as I started to get more drunk, "You're a tw*t and I've got a tiny c*ck but I will survive." We then burst into song again and started singing 'I will Survive.' "What we singing all the gay songs for?" asked TJ, "You sure you're not a secret c*ck gobbler." "Oi, you tried it on with me remember," I said. "B*llocks," said TJ, "You tried it on with me." "I had sex with Esther," I said. "So," said TJ, "She's probably got a bigger c*ck than you." TJ pointed to the corner of the kitchen. "In fact the flea on the end of that woodlouse's c*ck has probably got a bigger c*ck than you. Anyway I shagged Trudy remember." "And?" I exclaimed, "She's as a rough as a badger's arse, she's probably got a pair of b*llocks." TJ started repeatedly prodding me on the arm. "Oh," he said with excitement, "I've just remembered. I know what I wanted to ask you. Who was the better shag? Eve or Esther?" I shrugged. "Dunno," I said, "I thought they were both pretty good. Mind you, the time I had sex before that was with an overweight fifty year old dinner lady called Pauline who gave me the clap." "Well I got gonorrhoea off that dirty bar skank," said TJ, "Good job Kerry didn't find out. She'd have cut my knackers off. Anyway what about Esther eh? She's a bossy cow and you know what they say about bossy cows?" "What?" I asked. "They love anal," said TJ, "What did you do? Give her one in the pink and one in the stink?" "Ugh that's horrible," I said. "Come on," said TJ, "Give me the details. I bet she's a right dirty b*tch." "It was good sex," I said, "But it's a bit like having a big hard poo. It feels great at the time but afterwards you're just left with a load of sh*t to deal with. Anyway, who did you prefer having sex with? Trudy or Destiny." "Destiny," said TJ, "No competition. She was fit and she had a right tight snatch. It was alright with Trudy but she's had more traffic than the M1. Destiny had a tight pocket. Trudy had a wizard's sleeve." "Well she's still the mother of your kids," I said, "Do you know I can't believe we're both Dads." "I can't believe I put my d*ck in that council house disaster," said TJ, "It was like sticking my c*ck in between two out of date pieces of luncheon meat that someone had dropped on the floor." "Do you think me and you will be good Dads?" I asked TJ. "No Nanna," said TJ simply, "We're not Dad material." I sulked and necked another shot of vodka. "Look, Nanna," said TJ, "Being a Dad is like being a gardener. You can plant the seed and stick round to find out what happens, or you can just keep on seeding." "But I want to be there for my kid," I said. "Me too," said TJ, "But guys like me and you aren't naturally Dads. I'm a player and you're a gay-er." I once again sulked. "There's four types of Dads," said TJ, "Doters, gloaters, floaters and no hopers. The doters love their kids and cuddle them ad kiss them and all that soppy sh*t. The gloaters just brag about how great their kids are and how THEY are the best Dad in the world. The floaters just go around getting birds pregnant and hanging around but not being much use unless it's absolutely necessary, and the no hopers don't care and aren't in the picture at all. Me and you are floaters. Like that poo you just can't get rid of it. Annoying, not very nice to look at but always there." "I don't want to be a floater," I said, starting to sound drunk, "I want to be a doter. Yeah. That's right. I want to be a doter. I WANT TO BE A DOTER! I'll be absolutely fabulous." I then loudly started singing 'Absolutely Fabulous' by the Pet Shop Boys and dancing around the kitchen.