Among the sounds keeping Keith awake in the hours after New Year’s festivities (fireworks, air horns, car horns, the upstairs neighbour who was, presumably, horny), a loud thump at his apartment’s front door was expected.
Opening the door, the first thing that hit Keith was the smell of a few breweries, all sitting next to a burning cigarette factory. Looking down, he saw his roommate, Wayne, slumped against the wall, fumbling for keys. Keith wondered how he’d managed to enter the building in this state.
“Had enough to drink? Pickle yourself good?”
Wayne drunkenly swatted the noise away. “Hhhaapppyffffukkknnnggg Neewwwwwwyyeeaarrrrr.”
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