Last thing I remember was being angry that Janie was late. I decided to make it a double.
After that, nothing.
You probably heard the stories about me. Somebody like me. The guy who gets tossed from the bar by a pair of bouncers, the guy who is 2AM drunk at 8:30.
Hilarious, legendary.
But for me, they are just stories that happened to someone else, some mythical character with whom I happen to share a face and a name. These nights are covered in black fog. I never, never remember.
I wake up to the evidence. That’s all I get.
Dear J Hardy,
Disturbingly well written.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Hell of a night. Shame not to have been there. Good one.
Haha, poor narrator! I should probably feel a bit sorrier for him, but nah – one look at the chicken suit and I just can’t :D
Well written narrative of an alcoholic.
While I am generally liking the demise of the feathered beast, I am really liking the Elf on a Shelf being throttled by Darth Vader!
There could be worse things to wake up to after a booze binge than a chicken suit. Time to take control before it does get worse.
Clever interpretation of the prompt.
And a great voice your protagonist has.
Perhaps he should advice the drinker to quit?
Oh wait he doesn’t know who that is right?
Great story.
Must be one heck of a lot of evidence. Interesting depiction of a Charles Bukowski type as a kind of split personality.
I have woken up to evidence, I have friends who did (one woke up with a shoppingcart in his room filled with signs.. one of those was a sign from a policestation… :-) But he’s well established these days.
A real problem in the making. Hope the character gets help.
The man has a serious problem and, having an alcoholic in the family, I know how it plays out.
There’s a sad truth to this.