Misusing the alphabet

I find writing "under the influence" to be a fascinating experience.  It's just about the only time when I can actually write without censoring myself and let everything land on paper.  The rest of the time I don't fight the impulse to self-edit and while what comes out in the end might be a fine piece, it's been chewed up so many times that it no longer bears resemblance to what I started writing.

I can write when buzzed, but the best uncensored writing comes when I'm straddling that fine line between very, very mellow and unfit to walk.  That's where I was last night with the help of two bottles of apple cider.  Since the letters on the page I was reading were blurring, I pulled out my journal and wrote the following...

-----------------------------------

And so the story begins.
Because everything has to start somewhere even if you
Can't yet figure out where it will lead you.
Does it really matter whose fault it was?
Everyone saw the end result even if they couldn't
Figure out why the gun went off when pointed at
Georgiana's bountiful chest.
Heresy, you might say, how could you not know?
I tell you, I didn't.
Just as surprised as you, I was.
Killing isn't as common as you would think.
Lately I've been feeling jaded, I guess
Martin proved me wrong.
Never would I have expected him to be the one.
One to pull out the gun, one to have the guts to
Pull the trigger.
Quaking in his shoes would be more his style.
Really not the one to surprise anyone usually.
Saturday night he was quiet, pensive, sober almost.
Thought he was drunk, then sober, then high.
Unfortunately for Georgiana, he wasn't any of those.
Very unhappily enlightened is what he was.
We all thought he didn't know or didn't care.
"X marks the spot" is all he said before Georgiana's
Yelp pierced the mellow buzz of the bar.
Zero warning.