I haven’t been to a meeting in a week. I usually go every day.
Last time I saw my sponsor, he was in the parking lot of the Denny’s, eating some goth kid’s brains. I didn’t try to stop him: I had to give up my guns as part of the plea agreement the last time I was arrested for drunk and disorderly, right before I went into rehab. I’ll have to get new ones somehow, ‘cause it’s starting to get pretty hairy out here.
I really want a drink. The zombie apocalypse hasn’t been very good for my sobriety.