Whiskey and Cigarette

 

CigaretteHe was sitting on the bar. The pale, yellow lights were blinding, but it carried a warm feeling. Not for the Young Man, though.

The Young Man raised his pointing finger to the Bartender. The Bartender’s eyebrow raised as he asked, “Are you sure, pretty man? Think you’ve had enough.” He lazily grinned, showing a signal the Young Man missed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve had enough. But that’s who I am! Having more when it should have been enough.” I could just drink to death to have them again, he thought. His words were slurred, already, and the Bartender just shook his head. He refilled his glass with whiskey and the Young Man beamed. His eyes were dazed with alcohol and his body was already swaying.

“Gratitude, bartender.” He raised his glass and downed his drink.

An Old Man sat beside him and ordered for his own whiskey. “Hey, Young Boy. You should go, already. You wasted, right? You stand and go, now, if I were you.”

The Young Man ran his hands along his lips. “Fuck you.” He muttered.

The Old Man roared a laugh. “That heavy your shits are? You killing yourself, huh? You, you too young for either heaven or hell.”

“Purgatory, then.”

The Old Man shook his head and sighed. “You died, already. You revive yourself, now, and see the true world. Do not drink and die; bullshit, that is.”

The Young Man lit a cigarette and blew the smoke at the Old Man. “Fuck you, fuck life, fuck deaths.” He placed his cigarette in his ashtray before he passed out.

The Old Man shrugged and the Bartender made a “tsk” sound. Thought little did they know how devastated he was when he survived a car crash while his wife and two kids perished.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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