By Christopher Munroe
I finally bought myself a bottle of RedRum.
I figured it’d provide material for stories, going forward. You know, unexpected deaths, scrambling to hide bodies, the whole thing. Something pun-based yet horrific.
Nobody died, no horrifying revelations, overall it was an uneventful night, drinking Rum and struggling to write.
I may have overdone it. Rum’s never agreed with me, and putting down the whole bottle was probably unwise.
Now my head’s pounding, I’m queasy and I can’t focus my eyes. I’ve never had a hangover this bad in my life! It hurts like mur…
Oh! I just got it!
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