Bring a Bottle of Whiskey
I said I was finally going to come by. I knew he’d never come by place because he was always drunk and passed out by mid-afternoon and I, like most people, don’t get my day really started until after noon.
I said I’d come by so we could do something. He said he wasn’t much of one for doing things anymore. What he really meant was he’d be drunk by 2 p.m. and once he was drunk, there wasn’t going anywhere. He said I ought to stop by with a bottle of whiskey so we could sit and get drunk and shoot the breeze.
So I asked him what breeze there was to shoot if he didn’t do anything anymore but get drunk.
He said, “C’mon, just come over and we’ll have a few drinks and chew the fat.”
I said I wasn’t much of one for chewing on fat.
He said, “You know what I mean.”
I asked if he had any more cute idioms for us wasting our time.
He said, “No,” so I explained how I wasn’t much of one for getting drunk anymore, especially on whiskey. I said how liquor scalds my brains and insides. I said even beer makes me feel bad for a few days after a good drunk.
But he wouldn’t give up. With gentle persuasion, he tried coxing me over to his place again, telling me bring the bottle of whiskey. I asked why he didn’t just get himself a bottle of whiskey.
He said it would feel better if I brought it to him. He said it had been so long since I gave him any attention that going out of my way to bring him a bottle of whiskey would go a long way to showing him I still care.
I said I didn’t think I wanted to stop over with a bottle of whiskey. I said I’d stop over so long as we went somewhere and did something. I said I wasn’t gonna stop by with a bottle of whiskey and enable him. I said my conscience wouldn’t allow it.
He said there was nothing for my conscience to feel guilty about. He said he liked drinking. He said it wasn’t hurting him to be drunk all the time. He said it made him feel comfortable and relaxed. He said his weight and blood pressure and organ functions were okay, so all the drinking wasn’t having any adverse effects.
He said even if his drinking was a problem, then it was his problem, not mine. So, as not mine, there was nothing to feel guilty about. He said if there were any negatives to all his drinking, they were on him, not me.
I asked about the other people his drinking might have an effect on. He said not to worry because there were no others. I asked him if he thought that was a problem – that there were no others.
He said, “No.”
So he asked me again to come over and bring him a bottle of whiskey. He said I could stop by and bring some Coca-Cola if I didn’t wanna get drunk.
So I came by with the bottle of whiskey, which made him feel like I cared. But he knew it wasn’t care, it was only pity. But he didn’t care, so long as he was getting some attention in the form of a bottle of whiskey he could have more easily gotten for himself.