Drink

WEEK 14: Drink

Clink

Cold condensation saturates the outside of the glass and runs across the tips of his calloused fingers. The glass makes a hollow glonk sound as it hits the wood of the bar. There is nothing quite like that sound. The sound of glass hitting wood, the cloud of smoke that surrounds his head. He is where he needs to be. He is where he is at home.

Clink

He taps his finger on the bar. That’s all he needs to do. The bartender hops right over and refills the glass. The brown liquid giving him new life.

Clink

He sits alone at the bar thinking about his life. Holding his glass with his smoke in his hand. His mistakes, his jobs. Wife one, wife two, kids everywhere.  “Fuck em” he thinks.

Clink

He thinks of jobs he once had. Labor jobs. That was the way a man provided for his family. A hard worker who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. His hands were dirty all right, calloused, cracked, and dried out he used them to do all sorts of odd jobs. He couldn’t really hold down any good jobs. The bureaucracy, the bad managers, the weird hours, the hard labor, the drink…

Clink

The hardworking man is a myth now a day. All the college graduates, soft hands, big bank accounts, nice clothes, nice cars, hot wives. Couple of rug rats running around in designer clothes, they know nothing of the labor of the hardworking man.

Clink

They were told to go to school, get a good job, make lots of money, fuck the little guy.

Clink

That’s why their wives stick around. Hot little numbers just money hungry and well-manicured. They don’t want the callous hands of a working man touching their soft skin. Hmph, they cringe at the mere sight of me. Good enough to work on their car, keep it safe for their rug rats. Not good enough to have a drink with. Bitches.

Clink

Tap

Refill

His ole ladies were never satisfied. They wanted more from him than he was willing to give. He liked his lifestyle of working when he wanted so he could drink. They wanted cars, clothes, food, electricity. Seriously what did they think there were going to get when they married the hardworking man?

Clink

He takes another sip. The brown liquid burns as it enters his throat. It feels good. It feels smooth. It’s a good pain. It washes away the lump in his throat. Reminds him that is all memories are, lumps in your throat to be eradicated with booze. He snubs out the butt of the cigarette he was holding in his fingers, and lights a new one. Drink and cig in hand he takes another sip.

Clink

Heaven, is a place for angels. Working men don’t go to heaven. They don’t go to paradise. There is no paradise for the hardworking man.

Clink

He thinks about his children, and how he’s failed them. Or have they failed him? Yeah, they failed him, so did all the ex-wives. He wasn’t to blame; he was a working man. They didn’t love him, didn’t appreciate him. Didn’t understand his paradise in this drink. They didn’t know the release and the satisfaction of it. He needed this. He deserved it, he worked and worked why should he work and come home to some yappy kids and a wife telling him how shitty he is. Fuck that.

Clink

He earned this drink.

Clink

He didn’t need anyone in his life. Just this bar, just this drink.

Clink

Tap

Refill

Fuck family, fuck life. He is right where he needs to be this working man. His unemployment is about to run out because he can’t get a job. There is just no place left in the world for the hardworking man. The damn state and government takes all his money, taxes, how the hell is he supposed to live? No respect for the working man.

Clink

No respect for him. For his situation. For his plight in life. He didn’t have the opportunities of those college grads. Parent that encourage and education. Hmph, he’s lucky his ole man didn’t beat him to death.

Clink

Told him he better get his ass out there workin cause he wasn’t going to pay his way. No one was going to pay the way of a piece of shit like him. He wanted money he better start working for it. The only thing he was going to be was a working man.

Clink

“Fuck my ole man”, good thing he is 6ft under. He’s the lucky bastard now that he’s dead. He thinks of his mom and the years she spent with that man. His mother, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit that woman was a Saint. Married to a working man. Who did not appreciate her. Who beat her. Who only loved her when he was sober. Or drunk. You couldn’t really tell.

Clink

Mom

Clink

If only he had someone to hold him and tell him, it was going to be alright.

Clink

If only he had been given the opportunities of these self-righteous manicured men, he would have been different. He wouldn’t have to be a hardworking man.

Clink.

Tap

Refill

Fuck em

Clink

Tap

Refill

It’s the world’s fault.

Clink

Tap

Refill

Things will be better when I’m dead.

Clink