The next morning, you wake up to the sounds of Eminem blaring from the huge stereo system in the living room.
"What the fuck is this shit?" you shout at Damon.
He spits out the beer he was drinking, as a sneer appears on his face.
"You like it?" he asks.
"No, I don`t fucking like it," you reply, realizing that your statement was somewhat a lie. For once in your life, you actually were starting to understand what Eminem was rapping about, and you could actually make out and understand the lyrics.
"You will in time punk," Damon says, "Go get your breakfast."
You walk over to the kitchenette counter and find some eggs and two glasses of beer.
"What the fuck is this?" you ask.
"It`s your fucking breakfast, and you`re gonna eat and drink everything there," Damon shouts. "Or else..." he adds threateningly.
You grab the plate and muttering to yourself, wolf down the eggs. You sip the beer, and spit it out.
Damon is out of his chair in a flash, as he has been watching you. "That is wasteful, motherfucker. Beer is the nectar of the gods. Don`t fucking waste it!" he screams.
Then he grabs the beer, and forces it down your throat. You feel like puking it all up, but the fear you have of Damon stops you.
"Finish up your last beer," Damon says, "you have alot to do today."
You fear what he has in store for you, not realizing that swearing has already been engrained into your brain.