Poppy stood motionless by the Cabernet collection. Empty bottles and cigarettes stubs littered the flat that was once a lively studio. Her next victim, a former gambler who had stowed himself away in witness protection, dozed off this fine rainy Sunday. He’ll take his last swig tonight, just like all the rest who drew too deeply from her vines and entangled. She was now his best friend… his only friend for that matter when the days ceased to start, life’s currents spiraled nowhere. One last swig she bubbled and extended her hands from the eddies. They were met in kind.
In Jack’s mind, a committee gathered to decide his best course of action.
Scotch: “It should be obvious that scotch is the way to go. Refined men drink scotch with money to spend.”
Beer: “Except Jack is neither refined nor rich. Just go with the Bud Light. Quantity beats quality tonight!”
Rum: “More like pissing away the night. Rum is clearly superior with coke. Oh crap, someone stole the coke!”
Vodka: **hides the coke**. “Mixers are for the weak. Real men take Vodka straight.”
White Russian: “The dude isn’t Russian enough. Go with the Caucasian mannn…”
Tequila: “He doesn’t have a death sentence yet. Let miss Tequila cheer you up 🙂 ”
Jäger: “Did I hear Tequila? Wait for my boys! Shit, we’re out of Redbull.”
Long Island: “How about some iced tea, hmmm, hmmm, hmmmmmmm”
Wine: “He’s not falling for that again. Just buy some red wine and leave.”
Gin: “Agreed, and pick up some aged gin along the way.”
After much ado, the committee still couldn’t reach a decision. Jack got a glass of water and left with a headache.