Tag Archives: drunk

Some Assembly Required pt. 2

25 Mar

Some Assembly Required pt. 1

FAllen

Artie realized the gravity of the situation. He was trapped. His leg was in agony and he thought it was surely broken. Above all, his chief concern was that his beer buzz would pass without him watching his Netflix shows.

His cell phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. “Help!” he meekly shouted. He tried banging on the floor, trying to get the attention of the tenant below. His efforts were met with a few thumps back from the handle end of a broom.

He felt himself losing consciousness. He decided it was better that he let the feeling take him away. Either he would wake up to a possibly more favorable scenario or the sweet relief of death would alleviate the situation.

An amount of time unbeknownst to Artie had passed before he came to. He people talking. He tried to cry out but he had no voice. His vocal chords were not damaged; just nothing came out despite his better efforts. He also had no response in his limbs. “Oh my god” he thought, “I´m paralyzed.”

The voices were clearly talking about him. There was no urgency to help. They seemed to be gossiping about Artie. Nothing they said was flattering. In fact, it was hurtful. Artie even tried to cry, but no tears fell. He slipped back into unconsciousness.

Artie was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was still encased in the darkness of the armoire, yet the arm seemed to just pass through the wood.

“Artie, are you all right?” the voice asked.

Artie came to and saw his neighbor. The armoire was still in the upright position it had been before the fall. The ladder was capsized on the floor. Artie had smashed his head on a pile of lumber.

“Artie, I heard a crash and I ran up as fast as I could. I found you here unconscious! Good thing you keep your door unlocked.”

“How long ago did you hear the crash?” Artie asked.

“A few moments ago. The time it took for me to get up here”

“Wow, great!” Artie was relieved that it was only head trauma that made the episode feel like a long time had passed. He was happy to know the window of buzz was still open for optimum Netflix viewing.

The end

Some Assembly Required pt. 1

14 Nov

armario

Artie carefully slid the box cutter down the taped seam as to not damage the contents of the intricate packaging. He was excited, yet nervous. He was still unsure if he would be able to assemble the armoire by himself.

In his anticipation he had watched hours of YouTube videos about putting this monstrosity together. He made a list of do’s and don’ts cultivated from perky, over caffeinated, wannabe internet celebrities. He had his unused and fully stocked tool bag and he was ready to go.

The first thing he noticed was the quality of the wood. It was extremely thick and heavy, considering how little he paid. After all, he had spent hours reading reviews and they all spoke highly of the quality materials so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

After a few hours of fervent assembly and dutiful beer drinking, the armoire started taking form, as well as his buzz. He marveled that the once pile of wood was transforming into an actual piece of furniture. The alcohol increased his amazement even further.

All was going smoothly until he got to a piece of trim that he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where to put. His determination and attention to detail were starting to float away with each gulp of cold beer. He was starting to get antsy and wanted to be done so he could watch another episode if the Netflix series he was currently on, while still buzzed.

He thought he figured out where the piece fit, on the inside of the opening for the sliding door. He had to climb in to screw this piece on. He saw it was a little high up so he propped the ladder on inside of the armoire. The screw hole was just out of reach but Artie was too much in a rush now to reposition the ladder.

As he reached over to insert the screw, the ladder slipped from under him and as he fell to the floor and the heavy armoire fell with him. It laid over him like a tomb. To make matters worse his leg was smashed and pinned under the internal drawers.

The first thing he thought was to reach for his cell phone. He was in a lot of pain, entombed in the armoire and completely stuck. A wave of panic washed over him when he realized his cell phone was on the kitchen counter. Charging.

 

To be continued…

Some Assembly Required pt. 2

Fear of High

9 Sep

Door scratched

 

“I’m exhausted” Adie said aloud, though to herself, as she poured vodka into a glass. She had just put her baby, Belle, to bed after much fussing. As she put the bottle down, she reached for a half smoked joint. She went right to the kitchen window and smoked what was left.

The alcohol and marijuana always offered the same one-two punch. The booze numbed her while the weed sunk her into a pit of guilt and memories, deep inside her mind. She sat down on the couch with a familiar feeling of satisfactory intoxication and echoing regret.

“Why am I here again?” she pondered. The feeling was compounded by knowing she told herself she would “take a break” today, when she woke up with a slight headache from the previous night’s exaggerated indulgence.

These thoughts vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind when she heard a desperate scratching at the front door of her apartment. At first she thought it was a cat. Then she thought, but how? None of the neighbors on her floor even had a cat.

Furthermore, how would a cat get through the front door of the building and past security? After that feat, it would have had to either used the elevator or managed to open two fire doors and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

She was petrified with fear. The scratching continued, slightly more frantic now. Belle started crying. Belle only woke if she was sick. Something must be dreadfully wrong. Adie rushed into the baby’s room and immediately locked the door behind her.

She soothed the agitated baby; herself shaking all over. She couldn’t focus on a single thought of the many swirling in her head but they were all colored by terror. “What kind of mother am I?” she thought. “I can’t even protect my daughter, I’m so high”

As Belle calmed down, Adie fought back sobs. She put the baby back down to bed and went to confront the threat.

“If I die tonight protecting Belle” she thought, “At least my life was useful for something. Up to this point I’ve been a worthless loser” Calling for help was completely out of the question when Adie was in this state. Her paranoia of people didn’t even let her answer her phone when she was like this. Hearing footsteps in the communal hall sent her into panic so she knew she had to conquer this on her own.

She fumbled with her purse for the mace and stun-gun she had never used. Everything fell to the floor. Between the panic and the inebriation, her motor skills were compromised.

The scratching reduced but had not ceased. As she walked to the door, she played out many scenarios in her head. None ended well for her. After what felt like a long journey, she made it to the door.

First, she undid the chain, then the bolt. When she went for the lock on the doorknob the scratching picked up in intensity. She threw open the door. A shadowy figure darted for the couch. In the melee she couldn’t make out what it was.

Her eyes focused. There sitting on the back of the couch was Hope, her very own cat. In her intoxication she had forgotten she had one. That night she promised she’d reel it in and clean herself up. It wasn’t the first time she made that vow and it wasn’t the last.

 

The Hill Climb

2 May

Running in dark

Mary came home from a long day of work and immediately changed into her running gear. It was a hard day so she really wanted a challenge. She decided to take the shorter, but very steeply inclined route behind her apartment complex. The route was a dark, 3 KM hill climb that she liked to push herself up, than coast back home with her heart pounding and thighs pumped.

She passed the guard shack at the entrance of her complex and gave a thumbs up which was in turn, returned. She rounded the perimeter wall and entered into the darkness which was the welcome mat of her challenging route. She passed a few houses and waved to the people on the porches.

There was one small obstacle, an outdoor bar she hated passing due to the drunken hoots and hollers she received as she went by. As she climbed the first incline, the Christmas lights strung on rusty poles came into view. She had already switched sides of the street to give a wider berth. She wished she could momentarily become invisible.

As she braced herself for being in full view of the bar and within earshot of the drunken grossness, she was relieved to see only two patrons at a rickety, makeshift table and the barman. She even briefly fantasized they hadn’t seen her at all.

That fantasy was shattered when she heard “Damn, dinner is fast tonight!” followed by, “Why don’t you get over here and meet the man of your dreams and sit on his face?”

Though she was skeeved out, she had heard worse. She blew by the pickled trio and forgot about them. About ten minutes later, on the second steepest incline, she heard foot steps behind her. They were far, but apparently close enough to be audible. She was worried that she was worried. Although rare, she has seen other runners on this route but something was making the hairs on her arms stand up. Her instincts were telling her something.

Mary tried to run faster but didn’t have it in the gas tank. Her lungs were burning. She had been climbing for most of the run. The plodding footsteps behind her were getting closer. She looked back and saw nothing but stumbled when she looked forward again. Fear and fatigue were making her clumsy.

Wild thoughts made the tips of her fingers tremble. Her thighs started to weaken. She starting giving into the idea that she was going to be raped, murdered and thrown into the sugar cane only to be found after the harvest.

Her heart froze over when she heard a “Hey” followed by quickening footsteps. She looked around for a weapon but found none. She thought of running into the cane but it was too thick to get far and besides, the leaves hanging from the stalks would cut her to shreds.

She resolved to be a difficult victim. She imagined that when the news spoke of her attacker, they would mention how mauled he had been by his victim. She stopped dead in her tracks and faced the approaching footsteps.

As the owner of the footsteps approached it was made apparent it was one of the patrons from the bar. She recognized him immediately as the one who called her “dinner”. His tee-shirt was drenched in sweat and his face was tomato red.

“Hey” he called again.

“What do you want?” Mary shrieked.

“Just wait” he called back, huffing and puffing.

“I’ll wait” she thought “and claw your fucking eyes out and bite your balls off”

As he came closer Mary saw he had a wild look in his eyes. He was breathing so heavy; Mary thought he might throw up. At least she had that going for her.

“Ma’am” huff, huff, huff, “You dropped your license in front of the bar”

“What?” Mary shrieked with her shaking hands making a pathetic attempt at a defensive guard.

“Shit, I ain’t run that far since high school, I might puke!” The man said “I saw your license fall from your shorts. I done lost mine once; it was a pain in the dick to replace it”

Mary slowly put her hands down. She felt the area around the small of her back, where she usually tucked her license into her compression shorts, it was gone.

“Oh my god, I don’t know what to say” she stammered. “Sorry”

“Huh?” he said, perplexed.

“I mean, thank you! Thank you so much”

“No problem, little lady. I’m gone crawl back to the bar now”

“Here, take a twenty and buy a round for your troubles” Mary offered.

“I couldn’t, wouldn’t and won’t” he refused “And sorry for hasslin’ you when you run by. We’re bored. We don’t get many people going by. We’re just joshing” he might have been blushing but it was impossible to tell, his face was burning hotter than the sun from the run.

“Oh, it’s ok” she said and offered her hand.

As he took it he looked into her eyes and said “You take care on this here hill. The world is full of crazy ass folk”

 

For the Kids

16 Apr

hyena

“Let’s take the kids to the zoo?” Mindy asked as she meticulously wrapped sandwiches into clear baggies.

“It’s such a bummer for me to see all the animals far away from their natural habitats, not doing their natural things” Katie said as she watched Mindy.

“Oh come on, do it for the kids, they don’t know any better, for them, they are just looking at animals” she said, admiring her growing stack of sandwiches.

“Ok, but I’m gonna leave a joint in the car if I can’t bare the sadness”

“That’s the last thing you’ll want to do, get all hyper sensitive”

“You’re right! I’ll down a few zanbars and bring a squirt bottle with vodka. You’re such a good friend, Mindy!”

Mindy just rolled her eyes.

As the SUV rolled into the parking lot Mindy turned to Katie and said, “Take it easy on that squirt bottle, we have a long day ahead of us. Pace yourself”

“Relax” Katie said with a slight slur. Mindy rolled her eyes once more.

After about an hour into the visit, Katie declared she needed to sit down and catch her breath. She told the group to go along without her and that she would catch up with them later.

As she sat there, counting the seconds, seven to be exact, from the time the sun made light, to the time she felt it on her tingling skin, a handsome zoo worker sat beside her. “Hi, I’m Justin”

“I’m Katie”

“I don’t do this often” Justin lied, “But I’m going to feed the hyenas and I’d like to take you behind the scenes and show you how it’s done” This was Justin’s go to move when he saw a pretty female by herself. He usually offered the more majestic beats, but they have already been fed that day.

“Oh my God, that would be awesome!” Katie said imagining how cool it would be see with her 8 out of 10 buzz going.

When they got behind the hyena pen Justin asked Katie to put rubber slickers over her sneakers. “One important thing, always look down, the hyenas take eye contact as a sign of aggression” Justin warned.

Katie barely paid attention while she fumbled with the slickers. Her foot seemed to be three times larger than the hole.

“Let me help you there” Justin offered. As he slid the slicker on, his hand traveled up to Katie’s thigh. “Oh, sorry” he said.

“That’s ok” Katie assured. Justin moved in for a kiss and Katie acquiesced. For a moment Katie enjoyed it, until her head spun in dizziness and a wave of nausea passed over her. Justin’s hand already found its way up her shirt and onto her breast.

Katie pulled away “Let’s go do this? We can still make out after, I promise”

Usually the women had already succumbed to Justin’s advances or had run away in disgust at this point. He had never actually taken one into the animal holding. He was nervous.

Not seeing a way out he stammered “Ok…”

Katie had already forgotten Justin’s instructions.  She immediately skipped up to a group of resting hyenas, hand outstretched.

“Get back you crazy bitch!” Justin cried.

Mindy and the kids happened to have just wandered up to the hyena pen. “It’s feeding time kids” she said “Oh look, Aunt Katie is in there!”

They hyenas all rose up on their feet, baring teeth, cackles reaching for the sky and with backs arched in an aggressive manner. Katie thought they were being playful.

“Oh no” Justin murmured.

With lightning quickness and a sniper’s precision, the lead hyena jumped up at Katie’s throat. It landed back to the ground with a considerable chunk of flesh in its powerful jaw. The others immediately pounced, toppling Katie. As they tore her to pieces, Justin ran away. He was never seen inside the zoo again. It took the law one month to find him. He, much like the hyenas, ended up spending many years in a steel barred pen.

Rock On!

21 Sep

Rock on

“If this guitar could talk…..” Barry said as he pulled the cord out that connects it to the amplifier.  His breath reeked so much of bad habits that it could be perceived back by the drum kit.

“Yeah man, living the life!” Steve said as he, too, unplugged his bass with an equally offensive odor emanating from his mouth.

“We´re really living the life. We actually get paid for this shit, man”, Barry said.

“Not very good, but shit, we get to drink and fuck for free” Steve replied.

“Yeah, how many chumps from high school pull down around what we do but with none of the perks….and they have to put in a whole lot more hours” Barry said as he extended his pointer and middle fingers as to make quotation marks at the word “perks”.

“Most them fools have kids and shit, just weighing them down” Steve added.

“Fuck that. Now let´s party!” Barry said as he snapped the case of his guitar shut. Steve did the same and they both left the room.

*           *          *           *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

After a few moments of silence and when it felt the coast was clear, the guitar piped up. “Hey bass, you hear those losers?”

“Yeah, they don´t even know their losers. How did we end up with them?” the bass sighed.

The drums then chimed in “They barely even get a girl once a month, without paying, and they think they are some kind of studs”

“They are right about the drinking though, they got that part down pat” the guitar said.

“Yeah, remember that fucking idiot Steve puked on me a few weeks back?” the bass said.

“Uh, huh” the drums and guitar said in unison.

“Why couldn´t we have been bought by some accountant type that a picks us up a few times a year to noodle on instead of these wanna-be jack offs?” the guitar queried.

“Even some random office type that plays in a shitty cover back from time to time would be better than this shit” the bass opined.

The drums and guitar grunted in agreement.

“Oh well, good night guys” the guitar said.

“Good night” the bass and drums answered.

 

The Long Way Home

27 Jul

*note from author: I debated long and hard if I should post this or not. If you choose to read on, you´ll see it is pretty graphic. X rated, even. A part from a few details in setting, the story is fiction despite the opening line. I really want to make that clear. The exercise was to write a fist person, raunchy story. With that said, reader discretion is advised.

party

The following story is factually true. Take into consideration it is being told through the distorted lens of a drunken teenage boy. Seventeen years already has history distorting powers. Let´s take into consideration the alcoholic soup the story swims in. Reader discretion advised. Enjoy.

It started off as a typical Friday night. Warm ups included whatever was the cheapest thirty pack of beer the store had to offer and taking turns on the gravity bong. The gravity bong for the uninitiated is simply the most ridiculous homemade device for smoking marijuana. Google it. Ours was a one gallon milk jug in a bucket of water. The same bucket we used to clean the house. Who am I kidding, the house never got cleaned.

We were good and wrecked when somebody suggested we go to frat row in down town New Brunswick, New Jersey to “get fucked up”. We were all attending an educational establishment too embarrassing to mention here, so we piggy backed the party scene at Rutgers University. We decided I was not sober enough to drive so someone else, who was probably equally inebriated but could hide it better, did.

At this stage of my life, Friday and Saturday nights had two purposes. Get wasted on whatever I could get my hands and cumming. The former happened regularly, the latter, at least at the hands of others, not so much. We got to the party and I set my internal radar on drugs, alcohol and any girl with self esteem low enough to touch me. On this fortunate night, I scored on all three fronts.

As I said, full recollection of this story is impossible but some things are still clear. The girl I struck up a conversation with was blond, so skinny she could elicit pity and had awful teeth. I remember the teeth because this is a pet peeve of mine, but I was talking and she was listening so I looked away. I remember playing a few rounds of beer pong when she suggested we find somewhere a little more private to enjoy each other´s company.

The Rutgers frat houses are strange structures. They are the old mansions of Johnson and Johnson executives from a century gone by. They are full of little hidden hallways, staircases and rooms that are hard to imagine what purpose they once served. We found an unoccupied room that only fit a bunk bed. You had to contort you body just to get into the thing. Bingo! We found our love nest.

We started making out and I managed to get her clothes off. She was too drunk to get mine off so I was obliged to help. I don´t remember much from this passionate encounter but I remember a few things. First, we did not have sex. As you will see, it would have better if we had because I would have been able to break her evil spell, get away from her and the rest of the night would not have gone down the way it did. We were then interrupted by a chubby fellow and told to leave the ex slave´s quarters immediately.

I pretended to like her for a few more hours with the hopes that she would make that sneezey feeling in my crotch that seemed to be the focus of my life. The party was winding down and I noticed my ride had left. She offered her place to crash. What a coincidence. I wish I could give more details of what happened next but I really don´t remember.

I do doubt we had intercourse because no black out is stronger than an orgasm. No matter how drunk or high I was, I remember them all and file them to be later used in search of manual relief. When I refer to this night in my mind, a message comes up “file empty”. But the story does not end here.

I woke up in a strange place. I was cold. In fact I was shivering. I pulled the covers over my shoulders. Colder yet. What gives. I looked around. I was clearly in a girl´s room but there was no girl. I put my hand down on the mattress. I realized what had happened. Exactly what I feared most as a twelve year old when I slept over at friend´s houses had happened. I made water in her bed, Miss Daisy. It was a gusher too. Everything was wet. My mind raced despite the pounding headache. I thought about gathering my things and jumping out the window. We were on the third story.

I did what any honorable man in my position would do. I pulled my jeans over my pissed in underwear, put the rest of my clothes on and went down stairs. She didn´t even look up from the television. This I remember as if it were yesterday. I told it was fun and it was nice to have met her. I even remembered my manners and told her she had a lovely home despite the fact it looked like a future hoarders episode. It was a few years away from that but that´s ok because the show hadn´t been invented yet. Like the gentlemen I was, I offered my phone number. She told me to write it on the dry erase board on the fridge. It had the grocery list and I felt bad about erasing it so I left it alone.

This was an age before cell phones. I had no cash for a cab and not even the bus. I was a good five miles from where I lived. Talk about walk of shame? This was the Bataan Death March of shame. I put my head down low and took that walk. I threw up a few times along the way but I made it. I was greeted with a round of high fives. I regaled them with my tale and I was awarded the “green hit” from the gravity bong for my troubles.