Nov 112013
 

Originally posted 2010-02-13 09:00:23. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

I just realized, 4 hours after this first posted, that I didn’t link part one.  so, this is the LINK to part1 of Death With a Vengeance.

When we left our story last week:  She finally left and I didn’t know if I could still care.  I didn’t know if I could deal with her, myself and life in general.  I had to get away.  I had to drown the pain.  I had to drown the pain in cheap whiskey and even cheaper beer until all of my problems had auditioned possible solutions for themselves.  I had to confer with the only friend I thought I had left, booze.

And we rejoin today:

“Solace in Alcohol” I thought out loud.  “What a great name for a book.”  I parked in front of a local dive bar called Nick’s and walked through the door.  I fought my way through the habitual drunks that inhabited the bar at one o’clock in the afternoon.  I was gong to join their ranks and be drunk before five o’clock rolled around.

I took a seat at the shabby and none too clean bar as I ordered my first whiskey.  I sighed as the bartender poured and picked up the glass as I laid down my credit card and my keys.  I sighed again and drank.  It felt like liquid fire going down but I still told the bartender to leave the bottle as he poured the second one.

“Typical woman troubles eh?” he said conversationally.  “Of course” I replied and uttered not another intelligible sound the rest of the day save the ordering of more booze.  I drank through the afternoon and into the night, one shot of whiskey followed by a bottle of beer, each having just long enough to meet before being joined by their buddy tequila.  Bottle followed bottle and time had no meaning.

Finally, the bartender called for last orders.  I had one last drink as the bar was closing.  Then, I stood up to leave, waiting for the world to catch up with me before I could even stagger toward the door.  I was extraordinarily drunk.  I couldn’t figure out where my ride was and realized that I didn’t have one.  I decided that I should walk home.

The bartender already had my credit card and car keys that I would come back in for when I remembered them.  He would take good care of them I convinced myself.  I reached the door, shrugged into the coat that was given to me by the bartender, and left the bar, heading home.

I made it about five feet when I tripped and fell to the cold cement.  I sat there on the freezing sidewalk and laughed at myself for actually thinking that I could find my way home in this condition.  I stood up unsteadily and began to walk again.  Then I saw my car.  I smiled and thought that my car could find the way home.

I stumbled to the drivers door and dug through my pockets for the keys.  I could not find them and began looking for them on the frozen ground thinking I had lost them, already forgetting they were safe with the bartender.  I couldn’t find them of course.  I cursed viciously and tried the door anyway.  It opened.  I laughed at myself again for not locking my doors in the city.

I was still laughing as I fell into the drivers seat and fought to keep my insides from being introduced to the upholstery.  I tried to start the car without the key hoping that it would start the same miraculous way the door opened.  Of course, it didn’t work.   I sat there trying to think how to get home when some non-fogged portion of my brain remembered the spare key duct taped to the rear fender.

I lurched out of the car and searched with my alcohol numbed fingers under the fender.  I felt the old duct tape through the crusting of mud and pulled the key free from it’s moorings.  I cheered triumphantly and held it high like a trophy.  I got back into the car, started it, and pulled from the curb hoping that I was headed to my house.

part 2 is finished!

The Rest of the story:

Part 1 Starts Here!

Part 3 Is Here!

Part 4 right here!

And Part 5  Is Here!

Part 6 Right Here!