The Lonely Soldier
There comes a time towards the end of the night when we all face complete danger and vulnerability to his evil works. We must guard against his will and beware of his attack at all costs. He almost always decides to make an appearance from the hours of 3-6 AM while our wits are weakened by alcohol and our minds defenseless to fight. Most victims fear the embarrassment and social torment he may cause. And most don’t realize they’ve been hit until morning when its too late. We all become him. His name is “The Lonely Soldier”; the grim reaper of all drunk dials and texts. And he’ll make you wish you weren’t born….for at least 48 hours.
You’re out, you are having fun, and all is good in the world. The cameras are flashing, the music is to your liking and the atmosphere has all the makings of a great time. Just another day in the single life, “yeeeeeeeaaaaa.” You have reached the mountaintop! This is it! You are Dr. Stephen J. Ironcock (the Destroyer) and you will not be stopped! You’ve been grinding on the dance floor with most of the top 10 heavyweight contender chicks in the room…and even got a couple of looks from the elite 3 who are in the hall of fame. In your warped mind your face is up on Mt. Rushmore next to the presidents and you are gripping basketballs on the cover of Sports Illustrated; highly touted as the next big time player! At the height of this little Roman Empire your buddies are happy to just be a part of the action, just like the guys who passed the ball to Michael Jordan in the ’90s or splashed water on Mike Tyson in between rounds in the ’80s, all wearing jumpsuits that read “TEAM YOU”. And why shouldn’t they? You’re the one spending all the money! But something awful happens…3am sneaks up on you like a midget in a cornfield…and the fall from grace is hard.