Friday night. End of the work week, for those who could find jobs. Time to party, get shitfaced, wake up miserable and do it all over again, for those who had friends. A perfect chance to take her out somewhere nice and have a romantic evening, for those who had managed to even find a woman.

Friday fucking night.

Just another day in his never-ending work week. Time to sit in the busted recliner and watch whatever the basic channels were playing on his fifteen-inch relic of a television. A perfect chance to self-medicate with cheap booze he bought with the last of the five dollars he called food money. A good opportunity to drunkenly pass out early so he could wake up at five in the morning and go work some shitty temp job for minimum wage. A great time to remember how much it sucked to go to bed alone and wake up the same way.

Friday fucking night.

Shit could be worse.