There’s a storm brewing inside him. I can’t talk to him when he’s like this. He is so far out of the realm of reason and rationality, he’s jabbering foreign words, and there’s no interpreter to translate it.
Maybe I should just get down there with him, throw a few back until I’m speaking in tongues too. Perhaps then we will understand what each other’s saying.
That’s where they’ll find us. Two relics, drunk as skunks, ruminating on our past lives and trying to make sense of the universe.
By the end, we will have found a solution for everything.