“Well, I think it’s usually nice like this some days, and then not so nice other days,” said Randy.

“Yeah, right.”

Mercifully, there were people at Will’s when they got there. Megan felt a little anxious, but she had a plan. She sat on the couch next to an ashtray and got a beer and a cigarette out of her bag. The beer distracted her from the inevitable Friday question, which was, “Hmm, what am I going to do for the next 62 hours now that it’s the weekend?” Four beers calmed that pretty quickly, and the cigarettes helped her drink faster and more. If she started to get the spins, she could switch to cigarettes exclusively.

She knew all of her habits were painfully interesting.

It would be difficult to talk to anyone but Randy until the fourth beer, but if it had to happen, she could always smoke a cigarette and drink a leetle bit faster.

“I don’t give a fuck, I don’t give a fuck,” was one of Megan’s mantras. She finished her first party beer and started the second. She looked around at all the people in the living room. She didn’t see Will. She kind of liked Will. She thought, “I don’t give a fuck,” while moving her head and shoulders back and forth a little.

She hadn’t meant to move, but quickly reminded herself that she didn’t give a fuck, either way.

“What are you laughing at?” asked a guy who hit on her sometimes, for some reason.

“Myself, because I am an idiot.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, can I have a cigarette?” he asked.

“Of course, why not, right?” she said.

“So, what’s up?”

“Uh, nothing really at all.”

“Oh yeah? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, I work at a gastroenterologist’s office as a Medical Records Technician, which means I look at saltine-sized photos of diseased anuses and colons all day. And I don’t really have that much free time, but the free time I do have I spend trying to get drunk enough to forget my miseries,” said Megan, holding her beer can up to the guy for a cheers.

He looked at her sideways, then gave her the cheers.

“Well, at least it’s a funny job. Is it interesting? Are you into computers?” He was a smooth young man.

“No, I’m not really that into computers. And, also, our computers are always broken, so if I were into them, this job would be even more frustrating.”

“Oh. Ok. Well, how did you get the job? Are you interested in medicine?”

“Oh, god no, not at all. I’m kind of a hypochondriac. If I see a malady, I absorb it. So, I don’t think I’d ever want to,” she searched for the word, “advance in this field.”

“Oh, ok.”

Megan shifted. “I got this job through my primary doctor. I came in to see him about migraines and minor panic attacks, and he told me that occupation was good medicine and that the doctor down the hall was hiring. I hadn’t had a job in ten months and I was living off my parents. It was making me cry every day.”