NOT EVEN THE ROBOT CAN LIFT THE GLOOM

The other day Al Blanchard and I were hanging sheetrock at WSSP and I happened to mention that I had gotten into the tequila the night before and was moving a little slow. "Alone?" Al asked with some alarm. Christ if I didn't drink alone I'd hardly drink at all. Who ever came up with the idea that a person who drinks alone is that much closer to ending up in the fetal position at the bottom of the 12 steps, didn't know what the fuck they were talking about. And, to be honest, I wasn't totally alone. There was an opossum out on the porch, with his snoot in the cats' dish and my omnipresent robot- Jeeves sitting sullenly in the corner.
This may come as a surprise to you, but I've had Jeeves for quite some time. When I sold the school house a couple of years ago, I found myself unexpectedly flush with cash. After I paid off some bills and purchased my spurs, chaps and silver six guns I still had a wad of bills in my pocket. What to do? You can only drink and smoke so much. And besides, I wanted to buy something that would better my quality of life. Then one night I saw an ad on TV for a vacum cleaner that would clean the house all by itself. I couldn't resist.
It looked like a little flying saucer scooting around the shack, sucking up wood chips and grey hair. When it wasn't working Jeeves just sat in the corner and waited for further instructions. A few minor adjustments to the TV remote and I had Jeeves fetching cold ones from the fridge and rolling doobies. I was in heaven. A blowjob and coffee in the morning? No problem. Just add more batteries.
Then one day the unthinkable happened. A steady diet of woodstove ash, old man hair and mouse poop had slowed Jeeves down to a slow stagger. You could hardly hear him suck. His little lights dimmed and then....nothing. Jeeves was dead. I was beside myself with grief. He had become much more than a robot to me. What was I to do? The shack rapidly filled up with dirt and grime. I looked at the broom. Shall I? I just couldn't. And, as fate would have it, it was just about this time that the ecomomy began to tank. I had just enough money to buy a new robot. But that would tap me out. I couldn't justify it.
So these days I drink alone. I haven't had the heart to throw Jeeves out. He's still in the corner, next to the 12 gauge. The 'possum rattles the cat's dish and I pop another one. The news is all bad and getting worse every day. I pine for his gentle hum as he scurried about my feet. He was a good time 'bot and now he's gone. I know I have to go on. I guess I can make own coffee in the morning. As for everything else? I'll wait for my stimulant package to arrive in mail. Maybe that will lift the gloom.