Drinks with A Vet

“Oh, shut up. The beer isn’t even hitting me just yet.” That was a lie, but I knew exactly what I was doing. “It doesn’t hurt to be generous every now and then. And besides, I feel kinda bad for the guy, considering the fact that he has to hear your loud mouth.”

Patrick is such a dick, but he’s truly a nice guy. After my comment, he leaned over and yelled into my ear, “Really? I didn’t think I was being that loud!”

I shot him a quick glare before I finished my beer, “I hate you. Now, I’m going to have this ringing in my ear for the next hour.”

“Are your ears bleeding?”


“Then you’re fine. I mean, if my screaming managed to make your ears bleed, that’s pretty metal, but still a bit dangerous. It would make me the male version of ‘Black Canary.’”

Patrick, a man somewhere in his late forties, with the body of a major wrestling superstar, covered with tattoos on his left shoulder, face decorated with a black beard and feathercut short hair to match. Outside of his daily suit and tie outfit, he’s much more laid back in his clothing choices, mostly sticking to a pair of dark blue or black slacks and a t-shirt that sometimes has a decal on it.

Compared to me, I would look like his sidekick: a somewhat tall, slim guy who wore the short-shorts and a button up shirt with a brightly colored cape. Thankfully, it wasn’t like that and I was able to settle for my comfortable stretch-fit jeans and a zip-up hoodie with a tank-top underneath.

Keeping that image in my head, I did a quick comparison about what he would look like if he did become a superhero. Rock-hard muscles inside of a black jumpsuit and a tiny mask over his eyes.

“Please, don’t do that. You don’t look good in a one-piece.”

“You actually trying to visualize me in a one-piece?!” You could hear the confusion and surprise in his voice. “Why the hell would you even do that?! You know there’s no way in hell that I would be caught dead wearing a black one-piece. Besides, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

“Well obviously. It just wouldn’t suit you.”

“No, I mean literally wouldn’t be able to pull it off. I’d probably have it sticking to me with how much I sweat.”

“There’s that, too.”

Patrick and I start going on and on about which superhero abilities we would want if we were able to choose. During the middle of it, we got our next round of beer handed to us and tried to make ourselves seem more dignified during the conversation by sounding more sophisticated and holding our drinks around the handle with our pinky finger out. That lasted only like a minute before we felt like idiots, especially for Patrick, who looked like an idiot. We did a toast right as we ended our super debate and just drank in silence for a moment to honor the idiot looking superheroes who wore one-piece suits.

Now that’s I’m thinking back on it, that covers almost every superhero.

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