Relative Evil Page #9

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It's a hard way

to go.

Probably less painful

to cut your wrists.

Oh.

Happy birthday, JJ.

Let's talk.

We've been talking

for seven months, Doc.

Aw,

that wasn't talking.

That was just rhetoric, JJ.

Not much fun anymore,

is it?

No.

Wasn't much fun

being sober,

and now it's not much fun

being drunk.

These past seven months--

almost like

they never happened.

Why don't you let

yourself out?

Quite a piece of ass,

isn't she?

Your aunt?

What do you want?

I want to tell you

the truth, JJ,

and I want you

to tell me the truth.

You said it yourself,

Doc.

I'm right back

where I started.

I'm older.

You know how many

actually make it, JJ?

3%.

That's 3 out of 100.

Hmm.

Sometimes it takes a year,

sometimes a week,

sometimes just a day

before you end up drunk, high,

dead.

What's your point?

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