I don't even know what this story is about.
I argued with my wife, then decided that I wasn’t living life how I ought to.
I went to a bar, had too much to drink, and got into a fist fight with some guy who really only cared about keeping my groping hands off of his girlfriend. His intentions were pure when he stopped me, so I felt bad when I sucker punched him, but I’m not about to let a guilty conscience get in the way of living life how I ought to.
I felt better about it when he punched me back. Then I felt bad again, when he continued to punch me, but in a different way.
Later on, a man with a squinty eye and “Docter” written on his scruffy shirt told me that bleeding from the ears wasn’t anything to worry about. I trusted him. He was a docter. I gave him my spare change and left the back-alley he had claimed as his practice.
I started feeling untoward right around the time I bought a gun from a man with a black van and shot up a liquor store. I’m just glad it was closed, or I might have seriously hurt someone.