I watch him as he lifts the flared glass to his lips. A smile upon his face appears as he listens to the idiotic conversation.
The liquid he drinks is deceptive. Jolly Rancher in color and flavor hides the high alcohol content.
He sits, watching and listening. His movements are slow and deliberate. He is the picture of sobriety amongst the drunkards.
The others around him are obviously loud and sloppy. Their drinks splash onto the patio as movements get wide.
We beg him into conversation. Alcohol muddles our minds as we sink to a new low of raunchy jokes and crude observations.
He smiles at us and decides to raise the intelligence level.
"I had thebesst dinner. It was lablioli blabstar. Balioli laster. Laster ralioli..."
With that, the laughter roared throughout the once quiet backyard.
Yes, he is now one of us.
Pickled.
3 comments:
hi jenn!
long time no see!
well i get this one. alcohol and me have been best mates (and enemies) for a while!!
you write really well.
hope to catch you around some time?!
Hi there, Jenn!
I'll echo Far's comment. You have an amazing gift for entertaining, and thought provoking, recount. You really are quite superb.
Ahhh. Pickled.
*thoughtful smile*
How ironic with a name like mine I never can be. If you ever need a driver, I'm your girl!
Darn allergy, depriving me of complete inhibition!
Thank god for chocolate, and men, and scarfs, and handcuffs, and touch, and sunshine, and rain, and music...
Shut me up, now!
Please!! ;)
See ya. =)
Oh man, I so am. ;)
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