Don't Get Drunk

[TW - ALCOHOL]

Tired, limping and drunken was he as he walked through the desolate streets of Ghost Village.

What happened?

"Ya bet I won the game!" screamed a wild man, shaking his huge

mug of beer above his head, the contents swishing and sploshing out.

That one phrase set the whole pub to a singing bout, all of the short whiskered men picking up the tune and warbling out random noises that were hard to discern.

Among these tipsy bastards was a rather highly respected man, who had to attend a meeting the next morning at 8, in which the fate of his company relied on.

This man, whose name was Sir Henry, had just downed a mug of beer in one go, and his names were cheered just like it was when he won the year's elections in the close town.

Sir Henry was lifted on shoulders, celebrated, and these dipsomaniacs made the most of this wealthy man, faking to be his friends when in reality they just wanted to suck his fame and money.

Somewhere in the dark corners of this sketchy pub, a phone rang loudly. It was, if you guessed it right, Sir Henry's phone, and it was his wife calling him to remind him of the upcoming meeting.

Sir Henry, on the other hand, was unconsciously killing himself from the inside, the heavy alcohol now nibbling at his inner organs, having a wild feast of his appendages.

How the time flew by as fast as the speed of light! How the night dwindled on and how the appointed time for the meeting edged closer and closer!

And, oh! How worried was Sir Henry's wife was, as she paced the living room, holding the phone which was dialling in to Sir Henry's though he didn't answer.

What a humongous scandal it would be if the country knew that their respected Sir Henry was running around the feral villages, getting tipsy and disrespecting his family name.

How that would make the headline every single day for a week, most likely!

But, as it was, Sir Henry was having the supposed 'time of his life', spending a large portion of his wealth on this alcohol, and fake fans when he has got a big group of people that support him with their whole heart.

The clock ticks rather faster when one is having fun, and that's exactly what happened with Sir Henry, who didn't even gave a single glance in the direction of the pub's clock, which hung above the main counter.

And now he was in a pitiful state, when he sobered up just enough to realise that eh had an appointment with probably the most important client that he has ever served in his entire career.

Limping through the dull, cracked sidewalks in Ghost Village was the highly respected, much wealthy and famous government member Sir Henry James.

His coat was askew, his glasses tilted and his hair rumpled up in the most disagreeable way possible. His shoes were put on the wrong feet, just like a little toddler would without the help and supervision of an adult.

His eyes were droopy, for he was exhausted by the excessive drinking. His mouth was sorrowfully bent into a frown, as he mentally cursed himself for being so irresponsible and distraught.

As he reached town, he hailed a cab, for he wanted no one to see him in this ghastly state of being. His coat reeked of cigarette smoke and the racy scent of alcohol.

The cab, who knew him well from the numerous times his face had been printed and posted on all the newspapers in town, was much shocked at this old man's antics.

The cab knew how to respect his clients' privacy, however, and kept silent. He didn't even say anything except a word of assent when Sir Henry told him of his destination.

And so, as the way back home took about an hour, Sir Henry dozed off in the taxi's middle row, snoring loudly and totally unaware of the driver's harrowing looks of disrespect that he shot at Sir Henry through the interior driver's mirror.

The silence rested heavily in the air within the yellow cab, that swerved through cars with practised ease and rode quickly on the highways.

To Sir Henry's eyes, however, the amount of time spent on the road was rather short, which was obvious, since he had been snoozing the whole time.

After thanking the driver with a husky word or two, slurred with the remains of alcohol, the half-sobered Sir Henry paid and left the taxi to enter his home, where his wife was waiting on the sofa, still dialling his number with no acceptable results.

Once the sound of the door being pushed open and the sound of shuffling shoes entered Ms. James's (Sir Henry's wife) ears, she immediately popped up from the couch, glared at Sir Henry and with arms crossed started to rant.

"You imbecile! I've been trying to call you for hours! Where have you been? Oh, dear God, you must've been drinking and smoking haven't you? How horrible and irresponsible you are! How did you even find your way back home?! You know what the media would say if they saw you in this totally embarrassing style! What about the important meeting you said you had to attend?"

Sir Henry's only response was to step forward a few steps and wrap his arms around his afflicted wife, who quickly pushed him and backed away, gagging and pinching her nose.

"Ew, you stupid brat! Don't touch me when you absolutely reek!" she yelled, pointing an accusing pointer finger at him as she ran upstairs to run the warm water into the bath tub, preparing everything as fast as she could for Sir Henry, knowing that he had only bare minutes.

Sir Henry, still unstable, walked slowly to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, before gulping it down and blinking his eyes, trying to get rid of the alcohol.

Then, he went up the stairs, holding the railing so tight with every step upwards that his knuckles turned white from the sheer pressure he put on his fingers.

Then, entering his master bathroom, he found the water warm and the tub filled with white, soapy bubbles. Discarding all his malodorous clothes, he lowered his nude body in the water, sighing a sigh of relief and content.

His wife yelled at him from downstairs, where she was preparing a hot meal for him, trying hard not to break her temper and spill it all out on the pitied Sir Henry.

"Hurry up, Sir!" she screeched like a hooting owl, "Shower, eat and off you go!"

After those rushed words that she lisped, he hurriedly turned off the tap and climbed out the tub, wrapping his damp body with a clean white towel.

After a gulped down, not well-chewed meal, Sir Henry rushed off to his office, pulling his tie on as he could.

---

What a huge, huge disappointment it was when he reached his office, all ready to serve his all-important client just to find that they had all gone home, unsatisfied with only the customer support person to make feeble jokes and smile awkwardly.

And that is why, kids, don't get drunk, for it'll destroy everything you've ever worked for in the past days.