Ethan McClanahan never knew when to quit. The party ne’er ended when Ethan was about. And it is for sure that McClanahan couldn’t be any more agroof had he fallen off the roof. Self-discipline was a foreign concept to the lad.
Whiskey was the fuel that fired his engines. And McClanahan loved the highest “octane” he could muster. It wasn’t so much the liquor that did him in. It was what ever he added to the soup that filled him with such stupidity. His desires were wanton and his resolve weaker than tissue paper. Ethan was louche and easy to arouse.
Ethan should have known better, but his mind never knew what his conscience refused to see. But, there she beckoned, a pretty lass, built for speed and debauchery, a perfect match for his wild seed. Ethan had his needs and he stood on the cusp of a rather rash decision. He took a a sip o’whiskey and a step toward her and then, he hesitated. It were neither fear nor common sense what stopped him. His shrew of a wife blocking the door…now THAT stopped him.