Sunday, April 12, 2009

Turkey '05

A night with Wild Turkey 101 never ends well.
the last time I rode the gobble-gobble train was in 2005, on a
monday night. Why? I don’t know. The last thing I
remember was a huge double shot next to the pool table with a
guy named Scott. I remember that his smile streaked out beyond his cheeks
like a smudge on a window that knew no boundaries. The rest of the world
smeared with it and I disappeared somewhere in the blotch. Then it was
a Tuesday at almost 3 in the afternoon. I had only two things left in
the world—a horrible headache and an array of peculiar, but necessary
questions. How did I get home from the bar? I thought it was Joe, but
after I called him to say, “Thank you man,” he informed me that he
ditched my drunk ass—and rightfully so. He also informed me that he was
the last of our friends to depart. I had been left with
strangers. Did one of them drive me home? Is that why my Johnny Depp DVD
turned up missing? Was that my payment? Or did I walk home—a feat only
possible by the grace of a drunken God? And why had I ripped off
the toilet seat and hung it from the spout in the bathtub? Why did I
place my shoes in the sink? Why did I later take one shoe out and
fling it across the living room, lodging it into the bookshelf? Why
was there three Styrofoam cups in my freezer? And why had the bar
thought it would be a good idea to unleash my fowl ass onto the
world with take-out Long Island Ice teas? Was I that bad, or that
good? How long was I in the bathroom—apparently talking to my roommate
from inside the locked door—before I decided to crawl into my
bedroom and puke on my floor? Why did I try to mop the
chunked vomit up with a sock? Why did I leave the sock in the
middle of the puddle, posed odd like a work of modern art? Why did I
even go to the bar on a Monday night after declaring that I would
absolutely not drink that night? Why was one eyebrow shaved
off? Why? Well, I guess because I felt like an animal at the
Zoo who thought why the fuck not and then threw my dung at you.