Tag Archives: drinking

Insomnia, Part III

Lying awake at night I have so many thoughts going through my head, Impulses that I feel I have to act on, do anything, rather than just lie thinking; Thinking, that one action which causes me to stir, above all, … Continue reading

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After Betty’s

A mild sedative force took hold of Jack. The smoke crept into his left eye and caused a tear to escape. He was dehydrated and needed another drink. The bottle in front of him was empty. So was his wallet. … Continue reading

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Getting Drunk, Alone, In a Crowded Bar

Jack sits at the bar with a glass of whiskey in front of him. He lifts the dirty glass with a shaky hand and pours the rancid juice down his throat. It goes down like water. His eyes shut for … Continue reading

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Betty on Sunday Morning

The door slammed shut and Betty cringed in her blankets. The smell of sweat lingered and tears soaked her pillow. It was four-thirty on Sunday morning. She had been here countless times. On the floor beside the bed lay her … Continue reading

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Mr. Dead

Mr. Dead lifted his head. His brow was drenched in sweat. He reached for a napkin on the table. He struggled to clasp the paper but his fingers had become stiff from his labor. He clumsily wiped his forehead as … Continue reading

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Doc Little

Doc Little sat in his office on the third floor of an office building in Century City. On his desk lay scattered papers, a pen, and an empty bottle of gin. Little was grotesquely overweight. His stomach sagged over his … Continue reading

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Jack the Bum

Floorboard creaks under a heavy foot. A pale, wrinkled hand grabs hold of a brass doorknob. The old hand struggles to turn the stubborn knob, but the knob tries harder to tear the hand from the feeble arm. Defiantly the … Continue reading

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Shit

Shit, fuck, crap; here we go again. Whiskey and coffee make an odd combination. For someone who pounds the typer, however, it is a necessity. The whiskey, much like Lethe, is essential for the mind to wander from reality into … Continue reading

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The Desert

I rose my hand closer to my face and gazed at the miniature insect. She was a funny ant. She had large, sharp, coarse jaws. Her head was large and round. She had six legs that moved in harmony and a pair of antennas that wailed in discord. How many other rival ants had she beheaded? If I was an ant I would be a red ant and I would behead 100 ants, black ants. Continue reading

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