I’ll readily admit that I was drunk the first time I saw my wife’s ghost. My friends had taken me to O’Shaughnessy’s after Karen’s funeral, and yes, I was planning on getting solid, blackout drunk. What I wasn’t planning on,… Continue Reading
I left the pub before closing time — the beer wasn’t agreeable — and cut through the park. It wasn’t a great idea and I wouldn’t have done it if I’d not been drunk. The centre of the park was… Continue Reading
Stevie Dawes sank pints like Nelson sank ships. He drank Courage Best, three at a time, except when his guts played up, when he drank Guinness and told everyone about it. Stevie was a fixture at a South London dive… Continue Reading
Watching her husband disappear into the expensive view with his empty briefcase, Janice rolled her lips between her teeth, pulled off her high heels, and uncorked the half empty bottle of wine. It was Europe after all. Europeans drank on… Continue Reading
He tipped the bottle straight up over the glass and shook it. Nothing came out. Empty. After a few failed attempts to set the bottle upright, he laid it on its side and watched it roll the length of the… Continue Reading
The lawman tapped his steel-toed boot lightly against the door. It swung open, revealing two couches facing one another. The room itself was modestly clean besides a few beer bottles lying neatly in a pile in the corner of the… Continue Reading
“Caroline! CAAAROLINE! Hey, do you–” “Amy? Amy, whoa. Careful! Are you?” “Blasted! Toasted! Roasted! Crunk! Gone! Beyond… gone.” “Jeez, stand still! What did you drink?” “Whatever Mike put into that cup.” “Some brother.” “Some brother! My brother! He sent me… Continue Reading
Before: You met him at work. He was tall and it was hard to find a man taller than you. He was your friend. His voice was deep and with Rumple Minze and Vodka on your breath you begged him… Continue Reading
His head hung low over the bar, bobbing like a turtle’s from its protective shell. He’d had too many shots of Wild Turkey, too little sleep. Through squinting eyes, he watched the barmaid. Tall, broad, and middle aged hard. But… Continue Reading
Becca and Carl, Becca’s second husband, were in town. Tammy and I lived in Brentwood then with three children: Two from Tammy’s previous marriage and our own feral three-year-old. Tammy used to call Carl a bottomless pit of whiskey. She… Continue Reading