Tag: Alcohol

Alcoholic Elfling

There was only one thing left that needed to be done. The more I thought about it, about the pain and ache it would bring me afterwards, the more my heart would try and convince me that this was the wrong thing to do. I looked down at the half empty whiskey bottle, waiting for its mind-numbing effects to kick in. It’s been more than an hour since my last drink and still I remember everything clear as day.

As I leaned forward to pick up the bottle by its thin neck, I smacked away the flimsy, glass shot glasses I used to portion out my drinks, “You’re useless to me,” I said to nobody in particular.

I looked at the remaining half-bottle of whiskey, its powerful fumes reaching the sensitive walls of my nose; just from the smell alone I could feel the burning stream of dark alcohol traveling down my throat. I shuttered. After a deep breath to help relax, I took a swig straight from the bottle, going back for two more before my gag reflexes kicked in forcing me to put the bottle back down on the coffee table. A chain of coughs followed the hot, burning string of fresh whiskey traveling through my body.

Repulsed, I looked at what remained in the bottle: less than a quarter of it was left. It was surprising to me how big of swigs I took. I sat on the couch and let some time pass, allowing the affects of the alcohol to kick in. Minutes came and went, nearly thirty minutes went by, and still no effect on me. I could still remember the events of yesterday in clear detail, from the very first words that were exchanged, all the way down to who was the last person leaving the dump sight and what they were wearing. I was able to even recall how many crows I saw flying overhead as we put or plan into action.

Anger took over as I picked up the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey and threw it in a random direction. There was a crash sound of thick glass shattering, but it was rather far way. Regardless of where it landed I was angry that its effects were not happening to me.

“Why the hell do humans purposely poison their bodies with this garbage? It doesn’t even work as it should!” I reached for the laptop hidden under the couch cushion and promptly turned it on. Finally understanding the general basics of these newfound devices, I managed to navigate the internet and researched for various videos of humans embarrassing themselves from too much alcohol. They all end up stumbling around, tripping over their own feet and somehow ending up with the face inside a toilet hurling away their insides. In a handful of them the person took one fall and didn’t get back up, magically falling asleep right on the spot. And the very next day, they all awoke with no memory of the night before.

They all had no memory of the night before. And they surely managed to suppress any memories while they were drinking.

Then why the hell wasn’t it happening to me? I acquired much of the strongest alcoholic drinks available for human consumption, and yet I feel not a damn thing. Why?


Copyright © 2019 by Luka Tatsujo

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Drinks with Shelia [18+]

Shelia slid the drink in front of me and I immediately took a few sips, trying to get past the harsh alcohol in my mouth. The bar was loud as always, but that was something I’m used to.

But when I first went inside, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. The place was still crowded, the food smelled good, and alcohol was flying all around.

So, what was different today?

Sheila had a big grin on her face, hands on her hips.

“What?” I asked. “Somethin’ on mah face?”

Shelia laughed loudly, fixing her tank top to be more suited for work, “Yeah, I know. I can’t wait for this shift to be over. I have a lot more I want to do to you.”

Don’t You Remember? (Part Three) [18+]

It’s been a while since I spoke to Toni. I haven’t even hit her up just to see how she’s been the last few days. Although, if I did hit her up now, knowing how she’s been wouldn’t exactly be the main reason.

We both went out that night together, and I still haven’t had anything new come to mind since then. The only real thing I remember was the name of the club and waiting for her to show up. Nothing after that. She must remember something to help me jog my memory back.

I’m just afraid that I might have done something extremely stupid. I mean, I already woke up in another woman’s bed, so I don’t think it can possibly get any worse than that. 

I caught Toni rolling her eyes and drinking more wine, “I swear, you two always sound so lovely-dovey together. It’s almost annoying to me.”

I couldn’t help but to snap back like she does, “If you kept a man, you would understand the whole lovey-dovey thing.”

“Which reminds me, how did that night go?”

“Which night?”

“The night we went out to the club. Don’t tell me you already forgot?”

Wine-Made-Molotov

Nobody likes a person who’s always thinking that the world revolves around them, that everything they do is the real-life version of perfection. They’ll always try to convince others that they’re the one who’s wrong and will fight just to prove a false point.

However, there are certain people who have no good proof that they’re even usable or reliable. Their constant mistakes only drag on and make certain things more difficult than it should be. And the person would even continue and try to say that they can do wrong.

When faced with the wrong person, the perfectionist will be faced with the result of their self-centered ego.

Something like that doesn’t take priority at the moment. Somebody else can take care of it.

The sounds of papers shuffling echos at the end of the aisle as he carefully turns around to avoid hitting the wine bottles organized on the wall rack. The bright ceiling light illuminates the thick, bushy facial hair hanging from the bottom of his chin.

Every time I see this mother fucker, I just wanna punch him straight in the face.

Monster Madness – Integration at the Counter

Have you ever looked at somebody and automatically assumed they acted a certain way based on your passed experiences? It’s an all too common thing that everybody does at some point in their life, whether they think of something positive or negative.

But out of all of the times that it occurred, how many of those times actually turned out to be completely different than what you expected? Did that person act differently, much more differently than you expected?

Even though I caught the end of the man’s story, I’m interested in knowing a bit more about the struggles of his work. I look at him to give my attention in case he begins a new tale.

I take another sip of my drink as I face the man, his light brown eyes already looking at me. He raises his glass at me with a big grin on his face, “Bosses are the worst part about working in an office, wouldn’t you agree?”