When I was a child. If my father wasn't working or sleeping, he was as far as I could tell drunk or at least on the way to becoming drunk. I recall him coming home from work one night with a case of beer under one arm and a pizza in the other. At some point I asked him for a slice of pizza. He was already [i]in the bag[/i]. He yelled at me to get lost and I did. He was a scary drunk.