"'Just fuck the world and get on, Nick,' he says. 

I ask him to repeat himself. 

'I said, fuck the world.' 

It sounds all right coming out of his mouth. The word 'world' rears around like something brewerful. Like something I could swallow and burp and taste and get all up in me and sick of, and I think, eat, I'll fuck it. My head hurts suddenly. I ask Johnson for a tablet and he dumps the vial out into his palm and picks one up between his fingers and says, 'Open up,' and I stick my tongue out, and he sets the tablet on it--quaking, steaming tongue there, feed me, and it's bitter, and my tongue shirks and scoots and tucks back and something stills in me and something's something I don't know what and I don't care and it's good."

McGlue, Ottessa Moshfegh