Just Another Drunken Brawl

This was from a writing project I did in a class.

 Dear Saint,

I have been drinking heavily again. Is it a problem? I’m not sure; nor do I care. When I am buzzed I feel wonderful so how bad can it be? I just arrived home about ten minutes ago and went straight for the whiskey. A little Southern comfort and lime juice go a long way. Your constant bickering over it got annoying right quick. You accused the disarray of our house on the booze. I’m telling you right now it is because I just don’t care about picking up after myself. Anyway I’m glad you left. I don’t need anyone in my life telling me what to do; judging me.

Just yesterday I was invited over to the pub to drink with some friends. There was a fellow there that had the gull to nag me about my drinking. He started bullying me around and s**t. Bet he didn’t expect a 95 pound girl to hit him upside the head with a bottle. Knocked his a*s to the ground I did.  Got kicked out of the bar and s**t. The whole time I could see ya there judging me. Who the f**k do you think you are? You didn’t even leave a note. I had to find out from your brother. Well whatever. If that is what you want then so be it.

I am in jail right now. You can come visit me if you want Kevin. I don’t care one way or the other. Just don’t tell me that I have a drinking problem. I don’t want to hear it.

Love,

Sinner

 

            Dishes piled up on the Kitchen sink. Unopened bills collected dust on the kitchen table. The smell of cat litter unchanged for a week permeated the room. Empty booze bottles decorated the apartment like Christmas decorations. All manners of clutter littered the room, like piles of clothes on the couch, and CD’s not put back in their proper place. In the bathroom, Rose stood glossing her lips with a dark red lipstick. Her frail frame was hidden by layers of winter clothing; her face a skull with skin stretched over it. She brushed her short black hair, put some eyeliner on, and then slipped out her door; closing the mess behind her like it was another world.

            She stepped down three flights of stairs, out glass double doors, and into the streets. A taxi waited for her by the curb alone in the night shrouded city. The driver counts the wad of cash she handed him before putting it away in a small lock box.

            “Where would you like to go?” He said, looking at her through the rearview mirror. A large cigar hung from his mouth and perfumed the interior of the cab.

            “Clancy’s,” Rose said. Her voice was feminine but deep. A cigarette slid out of its pack and she placed it into her white classic rhinestone ejector cigarette holder. She lit it with a match that came out of a Clancy’s matchbook. The ashtray in the back overflowed with ash and cigarette butts. The cab pulled up to the pub and Rose stepped out. During the drive it began to rain so Rose had to run into the pub.

            “Rose,” said three men in unison. Their voices escalated above the rest of the chatter filling the bar. Rose rushed over to them and jumped into the Declan’s lap. She circled around kissing each of them fervently on the lips, and then made it round to sit in an empty stool. She placed her feet in Declan’s lap and slouched into her seat. Declan, Garret, Patrick and Rose sat at around the circular table.

            “You all couldn’t wait for me?” She gestured to each of their beers. Declan removed her black tennis, tossed them to the floor, and massaged her feet.

            “Sorry hun, what’s your poison this evening? Whiskey or Gin?” asked Patrick.

            “I think I will have the usual shot o’ whiskey tonight, but I would like a Guinness as a chaser, if you don’t mind.”

            “You know I do,” said Patrick. He adjusted his blond pony tail, and then stood up to go to the bar, but not before receiving a slap in the a*s and a wink from Rose.

            “Did you have to sneak out again?” Garret asked.

            “No. Kevin left me this morning.” Garret sucked in his breath and Declan raised an eyebrow. Rose lifted a palm in the air. “Don’t worry about it I’m fine. Let’s just enjoy ourselves shall we.”

            Patrick returned with drinks in hand. “One double shot of whiskey and a Guinness for the lady of the night.” Rose raised her glass in toast then downed the contents without breath. When finished she slammed the glass on the table, and then grabbed the beer and commenced with her guzzling. Upbeat Irish tunes on a classical guitar started filling the room, coming from the band playing on the small stage. The beer is drained half way before Rose put the bottle down.

            “Christ, we’re slacking here better go get some refills,” said Garret. He spoke louder so the others could hear him over the music, and then stepped away to go get more drinks, while Patrick started up with his obnoxious jokes. Patrick continued with these jokes for several hours and Rose kept pounding away at the drinks. Declan’s hand went from messaging her feet to rubbing her inner thigh. Rose slid over and straddled Declan’s lap.

            “You’ve been quiet this evening.” Her voice was sultry and she breathed it into his ear.

            “I’ve been speaking to you all night.” He winked and pinched her butt cheek.

            She smiled and stumbled off of his lap grabbing his hand in the process. “Come on lets go. Let’s go dance. I want to dance.” She grabbed her beer and pulled him to the dance floor. The two of them danced, and Rose could barely stay on her feet. They circled round with Declan basically holding her up. At one point she untangles herself from him and stumbles back into a thick necked guy behind her.

            “Hey! Watch what you’re doing. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.” The large man said.

            “Maybe you… You need to… Shut the hell up. I’ll tell you…” said Rose. Declan stood behind her trying to calm her down.

            “F**k you b***h! Learn to control your drinking.” The man interrupted her and then turned around.

             Rose reared up and swung her beer bottle as hard as she could; smashing it and sending glass shards all over the room. “Don’t turn your f*****g back on me.” The large man fell forward, unconscious and bleeding from the wound. Declan grabbed Rose and held her as she tried to struggle free. Garret and Patrick rushed over and checked on the unconscious man. The bar tender called the police and other patron’s cleared away.

When the police arrived they handcuffed Rose and put her in the back seat of a cop car. Rose woke up behind bars. Her head hurt and the last thing she remembered was getting sick all over the back seat. The police allowed her a pen and paper to write a letter after she requested it. The chair squealed when she pulled it out to sit on. She wrote:

Dear Saint,