Is this my future?

Hannah suggested I should go out last night and celebrate my new employment status. She even offered to pay for a meal if I wanted it. I thought she was being supportive of her little brother; it just turned out she wanted the house empty so Toby could come round and scuttle her. He still lives with his parents, apparently, and they don’t like “Un-Christian pre-marital intercourses” in their annex, so any sex-related filth and shenanigans are going to have to take place in our house. In the interest of family harmony (and to avoid the sound of squeaking beds and grunting barmen) I took her up on her offer.
It was a bad idea.
I ended up a thirty-quid taxi ride away, drinking tequila with an elderly black man called Alfie and trying to avoid the attentions of a fat gay writer called Pablo. At 2am I fell in our back door to find a naked, dirty Toby helping himself to a sandwich and some Quavers. As the room span around me, I had an awful premonition that this could be our future – me drinking myself silly to avoid reality, while a skanky failed musician swaps fluids with my sister on the landing.
Maybe if the new job goes well I can get myself a bed-sit as a getaway. Or maybe Hannah will see sense and trade Toby in for a businessman.
Or maybe, if I wish hard enough, I’ll find a mega-rich model online who wants to fall in love with a fat bloke…

RC 9-11-08
1910 GMT