The Opposite of Me

My room is a mess – socks rest on a lamp, bed hasn’t been made for months, all the clothes, shoes, and beer cans find their place under the table…  That thing in the furthest corner is my old TV, but I don’t watch it anymore, for I feel too exhausted to care about cleaning its screen that got painted with a tomato sauce some time ago when I got into one of those depressively-hysteric moods.  But still I’m not disturbed by that smell, which knocks off (for some unknown reason) everyone daring to enter my room.  I really like having that thick atmosphere in my house.  Isn’t that a pleasure to breathe in something that has a weight in it?
However, I’m an outgoing person and I don’t waste my time being a househusband although I do have a wife.  I only don’t remember when and where I have seen her for the last time.  I dimly remember seeing her on her way to our backyard where we keep our six children together with 62 dogs, 51 cat, 2000 hamsters, unknown number of guinea pigs, and a swimming pool full of dead fish.  But let’s not side track.  I was telling that I’m an outgoing person.  That’s true.  I especially love discos with their tech-dance-pop-rock-shit style of music.  I go there with my old folks, you know, for our age people it’s safer this way.  The teenagers nowadays are more aggressive than my wife is.  Again I’m talking about her.  That’s enough. 
I also love sitting in a bar till the morning and sipping the rum.  But I especially like to crawl home, where I instantaneously feel lifted up in that uproar composed of barking, mewing, and every other –ing.  The life then gets a meaning. Especially after having a beer bath, vodka shower, good marijuana smoke, and one good needle…
No, I’m not the one you think I am.  I just practice a new life style, called “Much, Tasty, Unhealthy, Pleasant!!!”.  But still – I don’t eat meat except that of my dead pets, for otherwise it’s a real problem to bury them.  Hey!  To whom belonged that blond fur?  Wait a minute, I’ll tell you…  Yeah… It looks like…my wife’s scalp.  Probably, I have eaten her.  Rest in peace, darling.