Posted in Blog, Ongoing Story, Short Stories

The Alcohol Cassettes Part Two

The following stories told in the first person were recorded on a cassette tape recorder on the evening of February 11th, 2015 in a local bar. The speaker was a man of medium build, sitting alone, telling these tales to whomever happened to be nearest. The author received permission from both the speaker and the establishment’s owner to record these sagas. The identity of the speaker has never been revealed nor authenticated, and inquiries into such a matter remain inconsequential. As such, they will not be made here.

 

I woke up, and the hangover hit me in the head like a freight truck. I stumbled to the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of a neandrethal looking creature staring back at me. I was drooling stupid, and I knew there was no chance of me getting to my finals in the state that I was in.

 

So I started to drink. That was the only logical choice, because otherwise I would have only be able to curl up into a ball for the rest of the day and cry myself to sleep over my failed final exams. That wasn’t gonna happen. No sir, not if I had anything to do about it.

 

I figured I needed to drink enough to overcome the hangover, and then a good deal more to get in the zone for finals. Looking back now, I see that my thinking was even more fucked up hung over than it was drunk. But anyways, I started mixing vodka with whatever pop my roommate left in the fridge, usually diet cherry coke, whatever the fuck that is.

 

I didn’t use the pop for the flavor. I used it to speed up the rate at which I could drink. And diet fucking cherry coke worked just as well as anything would have in that particular situation.

 

I drank one glass, two, three, and four. I figured that I should have one more before I left, to get myself fully prepared to go for the next eight hours without a drink. Man, that was a real shot in the nuts now that I think about it.

 

I’m really ashamed of this next part, and I hope you fine young gentlemen and lady will not judge me too harshly from this story. I hopped in the car, and started driving my drunk ass the 45 minutes East to my college campus, over there on ******** and ********, right over by ***. You know?

 

Yea I was in no condition to be driving, and I knew it. But I did it, followed all the traffic laws and speed limits and made it there. I knew that I had been wasting a lot of time that morning making drinks and trying to find that episode from this show, oh fuck what is the name of it? Well anyways, I was super late by the time that I got there, and I started walking as fast as my drunk legs would carry me.

 

Not a minute into my trek, I had to pee. And the type of pee after you’ve been drinking and drinking for hours and haven’t visited the bathroom the whole time, and then all at once your bladder says “Fuck this!!” you know what I mean?

 

So it was still pretty dark out, and I just whipped out my . . . sorry ma’am, I just started peeing right there in the wide open parking lot. It was early enough that nobody else was there, as far as I was able to see that is.

 

Some poor bastard was probably walking through the parking lot at the same time as me, and oh jesus what a sight I must have been.

 

The drunkest son of a bitch in the world on a Tuesday morning at 6 a.m. whipping out his . . . sorry ma’am . . . urinating in the middle of a parking lot on a college campus.

 

Jesus fucking christ.

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