<read as a Noir story>
2016 will be another year of revolving door rehab for beelzeboob. The wife and kids [that don't look like him] will wave goodbye as he goes off to get "better". But she knows better, shes lived this nightmare before, the endless circle of addiction, abuse and suffering. But she has to keep up hope that maybe, just maybe this time it will work.
When he gets out he will attend about 3 meeting before he finds himself back with the wrong crowd again. Slumped on the ground in an alley behind the arcade clutching a paper bag and an empty can of Naptha the vomit drips off his chin onto his teal t-shirt. Your money is not good around here, you can't buy beer with game tokens.
People will walk by and pretend not to see him but he is not one to be avoided. He thrives on the attention - "Woo hoo, Pintastic" he shouts holding up his hand hoping someone will High-Five him. But it is August, the show is long over, the heat has made his wretched smell worse than normal. Its time to go back to Jersey.