The alphagrip

mike sat in front of the tv and drank his eleventh can of beer

it wasn't a typical friday night... the poor fellow simply worked himself to death trying to learn to type on his friggin alphagrip

his wrists hurt with pain that might have reminded him of all the days he used to get beaten up in his karate class had he not been so wasted

the doorbell rang... those were his friends whom he had made plans with earlier that night, before the whole showdown with strippers and the drinking sharade went down. Mike tried to answer the door but as soon as he rose from the couch a wave of oozy wooziness hit him and he fell back down...