Nah. Lowtax an-heroed once he couldn't escape reality any more, made worse by very expensive tastes and heavy spending that he wasn't prepared to give up. So long as Cobes can get a buzz from something, anything, he'll keep on trucking even if he's living in a cardboard box under a bridge. He'll probably get into harder drugs and that'll kill him, but he'll just be another boozy street tramp by then.
Truth. I call it the skidmark effect. Every group of low-income, high-crime shit-heads has a couple borderline normal people who are tolerable under the right circumstances. You befriend them, and now you've got a dingleberry. Logically, you're gonna get more skidmarks with a dingleberry so much like locusts, the swarm of skids follows when they hear about the opportunities. You invite the one person, they bring a friend. Then it's two friends. Then some sketchy fuck shows up asking "heey man, is so-and-so here?". Then shit starts going missing, or you get burgled.
It won't go past 13-14% ABV, at that point the instant bread yeast is killed off by the alcohol.
You forgot the smokey flavours your nose gets upon first sampling the wine and instead of regular wine legs, the viscosity of the bogwine is comparable to cottage cheese or one of his curdled mix combos and the remnants on the side of the glass don't really ease back down after swirling.
Not to mention the goddamned boner.
Depends. Does he attempt to make his own still? Apartment explosion coming nicely, toobz.
I mean we're due for something a la the grease fire or the blowtorch indoors incident. The new apartment hasn't been properly christened, I feel. Minus the cum on the carpet and Mrs. Green's curse.
Don't believe so, Pasta man fully identifies with the Pasta tradition. Hence he asked Cobes to make him a pasta staff.
This is, absolutely, the best Cobra can do now. His brain is fucked genetically and chemically. His body is getting over the hill and won't be able to do any youth magic to compensate for not being taken care of. He has an almost entirely whithered work ethic. He is hanging on threads not because he has any strength to hold on, but just because the threads haven't completely broken of their own accord. These weird little flashes of effort like the wine making, more out of desperation for cheap alcohol than anything, is the best he can do.
