26 REDS & A BOTTLE OF WINE

Okay, here’s the deal with Floyd. Floyd showed up one summer while I was in Greece. He was a puppy then and living in my brother Chris’ frat house, but after a rather dubious incident involving a golf club and a second story balcony the frat house was ruled unsafe and Floyd set off for Brooklyn. Destination: My father’s house.

He’s been living there ever since, much to the chagrin of my dad who is, in fact, allergic to the fucker. So now my dad says that the little shit has to either get a job and pay rent or move out. I know Floyd pretty well and I can tell you that he is not going to get a job.

That’s the situation. So, I can either take Floyd on here or never see the guy again. Of course, I’m allergic as well so there’s that, which means I’d be adding a health dose of Benadryl to my current un-prescribed drug regiment.

I know Benadryl and alcohol makes you drowsy, but I have thing in my weekly drug cocktail to combat my lethargic nature. I’m more worried about reactions to my more… engaging prescriptions. This remains an issue in flux, but I don’t see me letting the good Dr. Floyd go. I also don’t see any change in my party schedule.