Drink the Day Away – H. Jackson


“What are you doing?”

The scotch swirled in the glass. It was beautiful. Hypnotic. “I’m getting drunk.”

She didn’t understand, of course. But that was the point. It wasn’t something you could understand. It had to be experienced.

“It’s ten in the morning.”

She had entered unnoticed. That wasn’t her intention, but she hadn’t knocked and I wasn’t paying attention. To misquote something I once heard, some of the worst things imaginable were done with the best intentions. There were no intentions, but this also wouldn’t be close to the worst thing imaginable.

I didn’t bother looking at her. The drink was doing its job. I was only mildly annoyed by the intrusion. Of course that wouldn’t last long. The situation needed to be resolved.

“Inspiration comes when it comes, usually from a clear head, but the words, well, the words only come when one is sufficiently lit.”

I could feel her eyes penetrating the back of my head. As I said, she didn’t understand. She sighed as if to confirm this fact.

It was a process. The first glass would loosen the mind. Get things started. After that it would begin to flow. Magic as if I had been possessed and someone else was writing the words for me. I had to be quick though. I would soon reach a point where poetry would turn into gibberish and ramblings. It would have to be sorted through tomorrow, but for now the idea was to get as much down as quickly as possible.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

I regretted this question as soon as it left my lips, but what’s done is done. There’s no turning back. No regrets. I already knew how this would end, so there was really no point in even having the discussion. She would make some comment concerning what I’m doing with my life. I’ll respond with an indirect sarcastic comment. She’ll yell. I’ll apologize. She’ll yell some more. I’ll take it, and when she’s done yelling she’ll storm out and I won’t see her again until tomorrow. In a few hours this will all be a hazy memory anyways, so I figure what the hell. Let’s shake things up a little bit.

I turn to her and tell her to get the fuck out. Her eyes widened with a fury reserved for comic book heroes after seeing a loved one murdered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit today. I’m working, so I think it would be best if you just left. That’s what you’re going to do anyways, so save us both the redundant dialogue and just do it.”

I had completely disarmed her. Her entire offense consisted of putting me in my place and then leaving me for dead. Now all she had left was leaving.

“If that’s the way you want it, then fine. I will leave.”

The door slammed and she was gone. I really couldn’t believe it worked. Probably off to screw my best friend some more, but who cares. She was gone, and I was free to drink the day away.

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