Monday, May 18

Just for fun


As green as the pasture behind her yard was the puke she created from the depths of her stomach. It was a bloody, bloody Sunday when her senses came to an end. Alcoholically measured, she was above the unimaginative. Spiritually disgusted and prone to being stoned, she elected her knees and hands to carry her any further.

‘Make my day, honey…’ she mumbled with a sensual whispered voice.

‘What do you mean?’ asked courageously a man’s voice behind her.

‘I’ll have another one, you dumbass! And make it dry, I’m just getting started.’

‘Oh, scotch you mean.’

‘No. Vodka.’ and a huge grin appeared on her face while she fell on her left side.

‘Do you need a ride home?’

‘My home is in a bottle.’

‘Oh, so you’re a sort of genie?’

‘Fuck you!’

She got up hardly and continued her way towards nowhere, only, this time, standing. The man followed her.

‘Are you gonna’… gonna’-gonna’ buy me a drink?’ she asked innocently.

‘You are pissed drunk and you still want another round?’

‘Bite me!’

Aaaand… she fell again. The man started laughing. Big mistake, man! The girl, thanks to some weird cosmic alienation, rose quickly and punched that guy so hard, that he actually saw Jesus embracing him. Halleluiah!

‘You want a piece of me, you punk? Heh? Come on! Come on! I’ll crack your head like a lobster tail!’ said the mighty alcoholic.

Saturday morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the sky was blue in a naughty way and the toilet flushed. She was kind of dancing her way to the wardrobe while thinking about what to wear. Honestly, she tried so hard to care how she would look that day that she got a powerful wrong headache.

‘Why do girls always think that much? Why do I think that much?’

Passing by these meaningful philosophies she dressed up and got out of the house. Eh? Now what? Where is the climax here? Well, she went to the nearest bar and started drinking, as you may have already assumed. I won’t start debating her menu out of… natural causes, yet I will announce you that she went to the cinema at some point.

Picked a cheesy movie, bought a beer and some spicy nachos, argued with the poor guy who just wanted to check her ticked and, finally, she ended up asleep in the middle of the film. Again I won’t emphasize the fight between her and the staff from the cinema because we’ve all been there. You know the drill.

After being kicked out literally, she approached the same bar and… yes, continued her drinking ritual. You may think she is a sort of twisted way into the denial thingie alcoholic but she isn’t, I can assure you.

The bartender was already fed up with her constant presence there but she was a faithful customer so it wasn’t his business if she wanted to die under a bus. She always received “subtle” invitations to AA meetings and actually honored one of them. While being drunk, of course.

‘Firstly, I have no idea why do I have to say my name because you will forget it anyway and we’re supposed to be anonymous here. Secondly, alcohol is not a problem. It’s a slightly less painful choice of living. Thirdly, I do drink everyday and my brain cells probably don’t work as well as they used to but I don’t need them. I’m not an intellectual or a snobbish artist who always brags about what he can do with his hands. I’m a nobody. And this gives me the reason to drink my life away.’

Soy un perdedor…

There is one more problem to solve. If she didn’t do anything at all, I mean working, where did she get the money for so many drinks? You know I’m not going to tell you because I haven’t thought about it yet. You can imagine that she is a beautiful princess with too much money, or that she’s a whore, or that her father owns Starbucks. I don’t care. She had the budget, ok?

Sunday morning. The rain beat the window harder than an angry husband, the clouds were dueling to cover the sky as much as they could, the birds were trembling under wet newspapers and the toilet flushed. She lied on the bed meditating about platonic (yes, this comes from Platon) goddish interventions and if Newton really discovered gravity, all these stuff while she tried to catch a mosquito.

‘I have to get something to drink.’

So she went to the same bar, yada, yada, yada… And in a moment of brightness when all the neurons ran away and cleared everything, she knew.

‘Make my day, honey…’

‘Ok, one glass of vodka is on its way.’ answered the bar dude offensively.

However, she couldn’t just stay there the whole day drinking her stomach out. Physically, it is impossible. So she had a small walk in the park. Bad idea, woman! Kids were playing in their usual way with screams and cries and all that infernal noise, dogs were barking (Gogol Bordello, I know) and a lot of young couples were licking each other on every possible bench.

‘I’m gonna’ kill myself.’ said she with a very Shakespearian attitude.

No, she didn’t. It’s awfully hard to commit suicide. You don’t want to die like a fool, you want something tragic, dramatic, impressive and all the above. And, the most important of all, you don’t want to die drunk.

This idea ran away from her leftover thinking process as quickly as possible. She deserved to live at least to amuse other people. Her existence didn’t bother anyone and couldn’t disturb anything so…

She started staring at her watch and followed the seconds one by one. Actually this is a very interesting exercise. It makes you feel conscious about time and its consequences. Yes, she was 28 years old. Yes, she had no boyfriend, no kids, no nothing. Yes she graduated some Harvard stuff and still didn’t manage to build a career. She was proud though. Being an exception meant a lot for her. I mean all those smart people from good colleges acting robotic and all that society like behaviour… It’s just plain freaky, dude!

‘I need to get some sleep.’

C’mon, you know she returned to the bar and drank… again. After this continuous habit, she tried to get home but, unfortunately (or not) she got kind of lost. This is where she’s supposed to meet the guy and beat the crap out of him.

‘You want a piece of me, you punk? Heh? Come on! Come on! I’ll crack your head like a lobster tail!’ said the mighty alcoholic.

‘A normal human being with a bit of self respect would have killed you by now. But, considering your condition, I will give you a break and try helping you.’

Uuu, that’s amiable.

‘What condition? Do you see any condition here?’

‘I can see that we have problems in our communicating system.’

‘Yeah, I’ll show you some problems right now.’

She prepared for the battle of her life. Although she was weakened, pissed drunk and sleepy, she had the courage (or the stupidity) to face the evil guy who wanted to help her. All this preparing for something way above the mediocre point of view tired her so much that she fell asleep. Yes, while she was standing with a threatening expression on her cute face.

I don’t know what happened to her. No, really. I don’t. And whatever you’ve heard of me, this isn’t a self experience and all that. It didn’t happen to me, ok? You can make up what ending you like, I’m not here to impose anything. Kill her, rape her, make her eat a giant rabbit or anything you please. And no, I wasn’t drunk when I wrote this shit.

1 comment:

  1. my home is in a bottle. foarte frumos spus :)