Dipsomania

Dipsomania

I pulled the weapon from it's sleeve and gripped it tightly. White knuckle firm control, but my aim was distracted by fear. I could miss, but I knew what I had to. Plus I was driven, driven by thirst to strong to control, almost primitive. I grabbed with my left hand to secure the objective and I stabbed with my right, missing my mark. My fear turned to concern as I watched the crimson liquid drip from the wound I had just created. I had to strike again, since this puncture failed my intentions. The second attempt proved unsuccessful adding another perforation to the target and thus releasing more vital fluid. The final assault confirmed my victory, nailing my plan and purpose. Bull's eye. Relief washed over me, and as I stood there drinking I thought to myself, I could never stab anyone cause I'm so bad with a Capri Sun.