"Slide me another whiskey, Misty."

That's my third today and it's not even 12:00. But nothing quite wakes me up like the warm tender massage of whiskey on my tonsils.

Here it goes.

Aaahhh, that's better. For now at least. I've gotten used to the throbbing head of a hangover, and I can't remember the last time my piss flowed a colour that wasn't a dark yellow.

It turns out life's pretty empty when you're too old to fight good.

Retirement started off okay. I did what I was supposed to; you know, travel, try out new hobbies. Damn, I even tried writing! But nothing quite gets you up in the morning like a good old hero to bust. The only bust I look forward to now is Misty's! And boy does she gives me a slap when she catches me staring. Corrr, what a pair she's got!

My days used to be filled with evil:

- Plotting dastardly schemes

- Foiling good deeds

- Pushing people over

- Oh, and paper cuts. How evil those were.

Now I've got nothing to live for. A life of a successful villain makes for one hell of a drunk...

"Misty, slide me a fourth!"