"Thought about killing yourself lately?".

Have had a disagreement with a gay old pub person lately. His background is a retired magistrate on a gov pension forever more, indexed to inflation. I only found this out recently. Previously he has been up the pub, we became quite good mates, him giving the thing  that he was a poor old pensioner on about $500 a fortnight if that, struggling to survive. Me, being a mate, has bought many drinks for him and had many laughs, him not buying me anything, proclaiming at one point "You're the working man". I was happy to pay top $ for what he was drinking as I just hate to see someone go without a drink at a pub who is a mate. Often I was spending well beyond my limits in doing so. For months now I've been trying to live off only $300 a week after paying rent on my own and the loan repayments from last year when it all turned to shit and I very nearly topped myself. He is 67.


The other week I found out his indexed magistrate pension was $2,500 a fortnight. His young 25 year old fuck he lives with he has given total control of all his money. The young bloke is a druggie FFS. He blasts his Methadone FFS. He delays paying the rent because he's organising shit to put in his arm. He has lost most of his teeth from poor health due to this. He is a junkie, pure and simple, which he has decided has control. This junkie gets a sickness benefit of not even $400 a fortnight. Together they qualify for a fuckin housing loan and can borrow enough money to get a $650,000 house! I know  because he fuckin told me!


I was fuckin livid! I told him so. Then after a week or so he comes to the pub putting shit on me in front of a fuckin table full of people about not having the money to buy him spirits drinks, without him buying me anything. I feel betrayed and leave, sending a text telling him what an asshole he is and sending it to others that were present at the table also.


Last night he demands (blind drunk) that I apologise for the text. I refuse, tell him told him to get fucked, and shut the fuck up ot I'd get him chucked out. He leaves.


Tonight he was in form not even worthy of reply; "How are you Peter? Thought about killing yourself lately?". 


I didn't reply, went to the bar got another beer. Left it alone to his sad delusional world.


Can't help thinking though, "You old cunt".