You should have gone with.

Everyone is leaving for the football game and you should have gone with. Yes you hate football, but you would have had fun just being with your friends. You really should have gone. It is Friday night and you have no plans beyond sitting in your room alone doing god knows what.

You need some booze. It soothes the pain. It calms that swirling vortex of thoughts you call your brain. Sure the pain is still there, once the booze wears off you will still think about everything, but that is not the point. The point is to provide temporary relief.

You are alone tonight, which is not good. You are pretty depressed, not more than usual, but who knows how the night will progress. Without something to distract you, your mind is going to start wandering, and when it does it always goes to that dark place. Usually a nice healthy dose of video games and a podcast will do the trick, but you are really not feeling that tonight.

Not that you really have anything better to do. As much as you try, you know you are going to end up playing video games, but let's see if we can't get your mind a bit altered first. Perhaps you can enjoy your night instead of just sitting in misery. You should have gone with you fucking idiot.

You know why you didn't go out, and it isn't because you don't like football. While that much is true, you didn't want to go have fun with your friends. Sure it would have alleviated the depression for a while, but once it was over you would have gone right back where you were and more than likely, even lower. You really don't want to be any lower than you are right now.

Though drinking doesn't really seem like the best course of action right now. You should just wait and see how the night progresses first. Just start small. Grab yourself a beer and just relax. There is no reason to get your mind in a state when it may not be necessary. For now all you need to do is try and relax.

Ah beer, how it can taste so sweet. It can also taste like piss water, but if you are going to get beer, it is going to be good beer. So you grab that dark Irish beer you love so much and sit down ready for some relaxation and.

Shit.

Shit, shit, fuck, ass damn, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

You don't have a fucking bottle opener.

Everyone who has a bottle opener that you could commandeer just left and locked their room behind them.

Fuck.

No, this will not end here. There is delicious beverage within that bottle and you will be enjoyed on this day.

You grab the one bottle opener you own. It is for twist off bottles, so its purpose is pretty useless as is. It does have a slit on one side that looks like it could fit the tab on a can, but no a bottle cap. You twist the cap around. This isn't working, you're just spinning the cap and not getting any further in taking it off.

This bottle needs to be opened. Well guess you will have to brute force this one. You take the bottle opener and begin banging it against the cap. You get a good hit in and hear the sound of escaping pressure. Only a few more like that and you are good. You take another swing and.

"FUCK!"

Son of a bitch that hurt. You look down at your thumb and see to grooves carved into the knuckle. One of them is pretty deep as well. You also have a chunk of skin hanging off of the larger groove. Shit this is going to start bleeding everywhere. You pull off the hanging skin, it was useless now anyway, and go to the sink.

You turn on the water and stick your thumb into the stream. It hurts, but not too much. Fuck, everyone just left and then you decided to cut your thumb open. Well this needs to be wrapped up before you go about fixing this. A towel would be best, but you only have two white towels and you really don't want to clean blood off of anything. Toilet paper would work, but someone is in there, shouldn't they be at the game?

Tissues. Tissues work. You grab a tissue and wrap it tight around your hand. Not tight enough, so you wrap it again. You pick up your wallet and keys and leave the room, locking your door behind you. The convenience store is just down stairs. You move down those stair as fast as possible and get to the convenience store. Oh look your friends are outside, you say hi, but avoid them because shit is going down.

You browse the shelves of the convenience store, but to no avail. You ask the cute girl at the counter.

"Do you have any rubbing alcohol?"

"Yes it is right here," she places a bottle on the table.

"Thanks, do you have a bottle opener by any chance?"

She give you a strange look, "let me check."

She browses the items hanging behind the counter. She notices your thumb, "are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did you cut your hand open on a bottle?"

..."Yes."

She shows you a can opener, "I don't have a bottle opener, but the end of this can opener will work."

"How much is it?"

"Two dollars."

"That works."

"Are you sure you are okay, do you need any band aids?"

"I'm good, I have band aids in my room, thank's though."

You pay and leave, hurrying back to your room. As you walk there, you cringe at the thought of the coming pain. This is going to hurt like hell and you know it. You get back to your door, unlock it, and go strait for the bottle. You don't even unwrap the can opener, you just use the end to pop the cap off.

There, it is done. You take a nice, long swig from the bottle. Success tastes delicious; so does the beer. Now onto the pain. You prepare yourself mentally and take the bottle of rubbing alcohol over to the sink. It is time. You open the bottle and, shit it is sealed. You unseal the bottle and throw away the seal.

Now it is time. You hold your hand above the sink and ready the bottle. Shit you are not looking forward to this. Time to sack up. You pour, the rubbing alcohol flows directly into the wound.

"FUCK! OH GOD DAMN IT! Fuuuuck!"

Yeah that hurt like hell, but it is over now. Now all you need is something to cover the wound and hold the blood in. A band aid won't work, the cut is too deep and it will bleed right through it. What you need is a cotton ball or something. You grab another tissue and use it to stop the bleeding for now. Shit, okay, someone has to still be here and have a cotton ball.

You wander around your floor looking for someone. D- is leaving her room.

"Thank god, D- do you have a cotton ball?"

She notices your hand, "Not sure, let me look."

She goes back into her room and looks through her supplies. "I don't think I have any."

"That's okay, thank you for looking."

"No problem," and she is gone.

Fuck. This sucks. You are going to be stuck here holding a tissue until the wound stops bleeding, which could take hours, unless you find something and-

"K-!" You catch her just as she is about to leave. "Do you have a cotton ball I could have?"

"What did you do?"

"Uh, never try and open a bottle without a bottle opener."

"Ouch, let me look."

K- disappears into her room and you wait patiently. Her friend waits in the hall with you. You smile weakly at her, but you don't really notice her. This is pretty intense, you aren't even looking at girls, you are too focused on stopping the bleeding. That means something.

"I don't have cotton balls, but I have these pad things that are for removing nail polish."

She hands you two pads, they are made of cotton, but they are woven into a flat pad instead of being a fluffy ball.

"This should work, but I only need one."

"Just take both of them."

"Thank you so much."

"No problem."

You dart back into your room and remove the tissue. You splash a small amount of rubbing alcohol onto the wound again, just to make sure. It burns, but not as much. The pad is a little too big, so you fold it in half and press it against the wound. Now you need something to secure the pad to the thumb.

You ponder this for a moment, then inspiration strikes. You pull the tape dispenser out of your desk and begin wrapping your thumb in plain, office supply tape. It may be strange, but it works and that is all that matters. You finish wrapping and test out the make shift band aid. It seems good enough. You take another swig of beer and sit down to play your game.

...

The bottle is empty. The night is still young. Time to switch to the hard liquor, though a cocktail sound really nice instead of just strait. Well the dining hall is open for another twenty minutes, plenty of time to go get some Coke to mix with the rum.

You get down to the dining hall, big cup in tow, and the lady at the counter scans your card.

"You do know we close in fifteen minutes right?"

"Yeah I'm just getting something to drink."

"Okay, enjoy."

"Thanks, have a nice evening."

You go around the corner and fill you glass with Coke, you can just drink some plain Coke first until you have enough space for the optimal amount of rum. Time to get back to the game. You round the corner, but notice some of your friends at a table. You stop by to say hi.

"What's up?"

"Hi, how are you."

"Good," you sit down at the open spot, "just getting some Coke."

"No food?"

"No I just want Coke."

"Why?"

The girl who posed the question is bumped by another, "you know why."

"Yeah I need something to mix with the rum."

"Are you sure that's just Coke?"

"Yeah I'm not going to bring rum into the dining hall."

That isn't good enough. The glass is snatched away from you and sampled.

"See, it's just Coke, for now."

"True."

"So why aren't you at the game?"

"Why aren't you?"

"I hate football."

"Same."

"It's a valid answer."

"What happened to your thumb?"

"I got in a fight with a bottle."

You stay and chat for a bit, explaining what happened first and foremost. The conversation jumps from topic to topic, as they tend to do. Then it is time to go. You head back to your room. When you reach there, the glass has the perfect amount of room for rum. You fill the glass and sit back down to enjoy.

...

Everyone returns much later in the evening. You managed to turn a night of assumed self loathing into one of relaxed enjoyment. The alcohol really helped that, it usually does. It turns out that the game went well, though from the sounds of it, you chose right in staying away.

You share your fight against the bottle with your returning friends. It amuses them. If anything, you gained an interesting anecdote instead of a forgettable evening. You retire early for the night. You do love sleep after all.

Later you learn that the bottle opener that you thought didn't work, works just fine for opening normal bottles. Good job moron.