Leaning the guitar against the side of the bed, he kneels down to begin rummaging through the suitcase. Clothes are haphazardly scattered through the case, with no apparent rhyme or reason. Underneath a pair of well-worn jeans is the bottle of whiskey. Joshua breaks the seal and takes a swig. /Mmmmmmm... better. Now back to the music./ The same bassline again, now a little funkier. Up and down. /There should be a chant for this tune. Maybe something about this Joe Black./ Joshua takes another swig. /Black! Why are these people wasting my time with this stupid TRIP crap? This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of! And Freud! Freud was a wacko himself! I can guarantee you that any problems I have are NOT because of my mother./ As somebody that didn't originally come from the Nexus, Joshua doesn't know idea about 'dimensional identity disorders,' and frankly doesn't care.
Whiskey.
"Mean old Joe Black,
he cracked!"
Whiskey.
"Mean old -"
With that, Joshua's left hand slipped off the string, the low E resonating on the now-loose guitar string. /Crap! What the hell am I doing? I have to quit this drinking shit!/ Joshua stumbled to his feet. /They're going to do that filtering thing again. Bastards! You stupid git, getting yourself drunk again!/ He grabs the bottle and heads for the bathroom.
/Bastards./ Joshua looks at the remaining liquid, takes a big gulp of it, and dumps the rest of it down the sink. /Good riddance. I don't need you./ Feeling victorious, he sits back down on the bed and picks up his guitar once again.