Pounding back the sugary alcohol
Until my eyes cross from both drugs hitting my system
Now he gets into my space and spits in my face
Could barely stand I was so bad off, but I could only take so much
Hitting him in the mouth put him in the same state as I as we both fell down
Basking in the afterglow of the alcohol’s afterglow
Observing how the light plays among the amber waves
Understanding the time and craftsmanship put in the bottle
Relishing in the transformation of those simple ingredients
But I digress, what did you want to drink tonight?
Only a light beer?
Now you must leave you heathen!
So many people on the dance floor
Motion like the ocean crested through his body
A small clear spot emptied around him
Sending his body onto larger motions
His dignity realized this did not bode well
Even though it was sinking in all the alcohol
Drinking was definitely not his strength
The call for brains escaped Bob’s mouth. He remembered the good old days before the blight had swept the realm. Brains were everywhere, plentiful if a bit pickled in the alcohol and first and second hand cigarette smoke. Over time the smoke for the most part cleared, but then the new blight began to spread. More and more zombies were created, leaving him starved for the brains he craved. Still Bob soldiered on, looking for that most precious commodity. Those damn screens have destroyed so many brains, leaving Bob to lecture at those zombies instead of teaching. Brains. Brains! BRAINS!
I call for misery, but it does not come. It leaves me in a state of malaise, a state for which I do not have a passport to. You would think that depression, insignificance, or any of their ilk would be at ones beck and call. They are not invited to most places. They are the uncool kids who find out where the part was from a friend of a friend and crash it. I invited them. I even brought the alcohol and drugs, all they could use, and yet here I am all alone with apathy. I’m effed up!
Harry was half listening to his mandatory job training. His current one was on working in a drug and alcohol free workplace. Harry thought this was a total waste of time, then he realized he could use it as a writing prompt. Harry began brainstorming what he could write about. Should he try to write about an angel who was addicted to devil’s food cake? How about a demon who was addicted to Mexican soap operas? As the training droned on and on Harry knew one thing, he wasn’t going to even think about addiction. The training killed his buzz.