I wake up slowly with an aching head and a dry mouth. I remember drinking too much last night. Slowly it occurs to me that I don’t smell coffee brewing. Sarah has made me coffee every morning for almost eight years now. Then, reluctantly at first, I remember the argument we had last night; it was a bad one. We were both plastered and apoplectic. Hell, we were both apoplectically plastered.
“…always where men came together to exchange ideas, to laugh and boast and dare, to relax, to forget the dull toil of tiresome nights and days, always they came together over alcohol. The thousand roads of romance and adventure drew together in the saloon, and thence led out and on over the world.”
John Barleycorn |
Editorial StaffEditor in Chief Categories
All
|