The Drunk

William sat leaning over his empty glass, just a few melting ice cubes at the bottom. His eyes are almost closed, and his lips have been numb for about thirty minutes. He doesn't realize that he is drooling a bit. His stomach starts to feel queasy, he felt as though he was going to vomit right here on the bar. He reaches out his hand to grab the glass and nearly tips it over.
“Hey! I...” he had to swallow down the urge to throw up, “I want, no NEED another drink over here, and hurry up.” His words are badly slurred, Johnny, the bar tender, could barely understand him.
“I don't think you need any more Will,” Johnny reached for the glass in front of Will, “let me call you a cab. It's on me.”
“I don't need your fucking charity you judgmental ass. Give...me...another...drink!” Will is starting to get very agitated.
“Fine, one last one. But I'm still calling a cab,” Johnny grabbed a clean glass, and filled it with a clear liquid, and two cubes of ice. William greedily grabbed for the glass as Johnny turned to pick up the phone. “Hey, it's Johnny from Johnny's Pub...yeah same-old-same-old. Listen, I need a cab for a friend...yup, charge it to my account...ten minutes? Cool, I'll keep him here. Thanks again Mick.” He hung up the phone. When he turned back around, William was gone. Under the glass is a note: “Fucking water? You asshole.”
“Damn it!” Johnny ran out side to see if Will was still in the parking lot. He stepped outside just in time to see William drive over a stop sign at the end of the street. Will kept going not noticing what had just happened.
“Fucking water? FUCKING WATER?! I trusted you, you fuck! I asked for a simple little drink, and you give me water? Well I guess it is a drink, but I'm in a fucking bar. I WANT BOOZE!” William cursed as he sped away.
The lines on the road became blurred as he settled down, and relaxed a bit. He is having a hard time keeping in between the lines. About a mile down the road he came to a red light. His mind had been wandering toward some far off dream of more alcohol filling his belly that he ran through the light. He never noticed. He never notice the five cars that he ran into either. William had a brilliant idea: go to a liquor store, and buy more liquor! Yes, that is what he will do. So he drove around for a bit looking for a store that sells liquor. After a bit, he found the perfect store. And a good thing too, he is starting to sober up. He parked in the lot. Across no less than three parking spots. William stumbles out of his car, and into the store.
As he approached the door to the store he tripped over his own feet a few times, scuffing his right knee, and the palms of his hands. After what seemed like an hour to Will, he finally made it to the door. His sweating hands reaching out for the door handle. He pushed the door open, but the door did not move. He pushed harder, and harder.
“The fuck? You assholes closed or what?” he yelled out. A man came up to the door and pushed it open.
“No, they're open, you just have to,” he pointed to a small signed just above the handle, “pull,” the man walked away.
“Fuck-face,” William whispered to himself. He stumbled around the store for a bit looking for that one, that perfect bottle. It took him a bit, but he eventually found it. Way down, on the bottom shelf, just above the floor. Why that one? William liked the Russian writing on the bottle, that depicted a girl with over sized breasts dancing. He reached down and grasped the bottle with uncertain hands. Will momentarily lost his balance and fell over again.
“Shit,” he cursed. On hands and knees, grabbed the bottle with the Russian writing. Using the shelving to help him back up to his unstable feet, he started to walk toward the counter as 'soberly' as he could. He put the bottle on the counter, and fumbled for his wallet. The clerk behind the counter would not take his eyes off of Will, thinking that he might try something, like rob the store. Will is not in any condition to try to rob anybody.
“Is this all you need?” the man asked.
“What the fuck you think? Will this get me drink?”
“Drink? Yes, this will get you drink,” the clerk said almost sarcastically.
“Good, very good, how much?”
“$14.37”
Will handed the man a $20, and walked out without his change. On the way back to his car, he opened the bottle and took a long swig. It burned something horrible on the way down, but Will didn't seem to notice too much. As he rounded the corner into the parking lot, he took another swig. Then he noticed it. The cop. The cop taking down his license plate information. Shit shit shit. Will thought. He tried to be subtle and put the bottle to his side, and kept walking. He got lucky that the cop is too busy to notice. Will just kept walking. Once he got far enough away where he felt comfortable to start drinking again, he did just that. He just walked around the area that he was at, not wanting to return home just yet. He didn't feel drunk enough to go home. He knew what was waiting for him, and could not face it right now. Wills wife filed for divorce, and full custody of the kids. He thought to himself: If that is the way she wants it, that is the way she is going to get it. No one, and I mean no one will take my children away from me, not even her.
He continued to wander for a bit, drinking, thinking, walking, plotting.