The Drink’s On Me! – SHORT STORY



Ever felt car sick but you’ve been at the bar all night?

Gelatine legged I swayed, shivering slightly in the bleach of street light. The moon, a reluctant participant in my pool of vomit, freshly puked and steaming in the chilly night. Shards of glass littered the alleyway, broken promises. Each bottle held an escape, it was inside me but even then I couldn’t hold onto it, my stomach churning and queasing had regurgitated like a responsible bird of prey after the third bottle, severely unhappy at my liquid diet. The blistered pavement it’s precious young.

That’s the last time! As pathetically hollow as the scattered mosaic of bottles once were. A therapist has to be cheaper than this! But then, digging up old memories was such hard work, having some creaseless cardiganed graduate disgorging some bullshit with less stink and ceremony than what had just occurred. I know me, and so do you! Alcohol certainly had it’s charms. Distilled, well aged, well acquainted with ice – a touch of vitamin C doesn’t go amiss. Can’t say my diet is entirely unhealthy, lemons and limes certainly have their place, dutifully floating at the top of my drink. Entirely unnoticed on the palette by the second tipple, like some harmless malingering diplomat that serves no measurable purpose, yet who would be missed if their presence was no longer. You didn’t know why you were angry there was no citrus slice when stocks ran dry, but you felt justified in being disgruntled. It just didn’t seem right.

Those were the good old days. When drinking was a social event, not just another reason to get smashed. Badgered. Monged. Blootered. Wasted. Caned. Bladdered…I could continue. It’s amusing how ‘drunk’ isn’t even the first word to describe my unsteady malady. Vernacular drowned it long ago in a vat of whisky – the cheap stuff. The kind that gets banished abroad because foreigners won’t know the damned difference between a 12 year old malt and the colour exact impostor of Scotland’s national export. Still gets you pissed. Another word I forgot.

My liver and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms but not to the extent of my soon to be wife. We have two children. You’d be forgiven for thinking they had long flown the home. One of them, like me now, can barely talk. The other possesses a limited vocabulary and could probably say ‘vodka’ with its hard Russian sound easy to enunciate.

Still. I’m allowed to have fun aren’t I?

Continually wretching air, the moon disappeared from view, wishing to have no further part in my thrown up mirror. Rat arsed. There’s another.

Wanting to set an example and not wanting to be responsible is tough but someone’s got to do it. Me and the other millions. I imagine the disappointment and quiet fury that awaits back home, who I’d awaken from a sweet dream, to breath a cocktail of self loathing and regret upon while my tongue trips over the words ‘I love you’ as if they were as jaggy edged as glass shards.

Bring on the weekend.

Hell, if it wasn’t for genetic pioneers like me, my children wouldn’t even be able to handle the booze when they grow up, the gene that most Europeans possess which gives us stronger stomachs over other nationalities.

Always an excuse and more than a 40% chance of it all happening again. Raising a glass, is easier than raising children.

13 thoughts on “The Drink’s On Me! – SHORT STORY

  1. Going in there the writing is really well crafted ( as your are) but it almost made pretty the whole subject matter instead of harsh or ugly – as it seems often. I am a whiskey drinker on occasion, but one thing I hate is crossing the line and not being in control despite how much I want to. I enjoyed the language in this lavish – words and violent struggles with one of mans best friends.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanking you once more ☺
      Its interesting that readers seemed to want a happy resolution. I like diverting the Hollywood ending sometimes, in favour of realism.
      I thought the story showed a realistic portrayal of alcoholism, of routine drinking, so I didnt think it glamorised it or prettied it, but I take your comment on board Anna.


      1. You achieved your aim, I meant more the language was very fine’, and to me seemed incongruous but then that’s my head, I was enjoying the skill, and maybe that detracted from the harshness but yes you did get that across, – I was swooning at the skill maybe. I prefer realistic endings, I think we are fed too much of a ‘good’ thing and it can only ever end badly.

        I am seldom coherent to a lot of people and wish I’d posted this fist lol.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Lol its all good. I like to change up the verbosity sometimes, so some pieces are straight forward english, some a bit more literary, but straight forward is what I usually do.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. There you go, you said it in 12 words I take 89 on a good day.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I like this one! “Raising a glass, is easier than raising children.” Truer words were never spoken.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Apprecite it, thanks for the feedback 🙂


  3. Hmmmm Sounds like a story that needs a positive ending. Well written as I could visualize it.


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