A Drunk Man's Words Novels & Stories

Is that it? "You're drunk sweetheart and you can't take anymore," My eyes shifted to the old man beside me. What the hell was he still doing here? "Go away old man," I snapped, then pulled out my debit card and slammed it on the counter. "Look, I have money. Who said only rich people can drink as much as they want? You think I'm fucking broke?" Tears burned down my cheeks as those ugly words from Kaden rang in my ears again "You all are mean. Everyone is fucking mean." I laughed, slamming my hand on the counter as I cracked up like it was all some huge joke. Everyone's an asshole

A few hours later. I can't say I'm fully drunk; I'm a bit beyond tipsy, but I can still navigate. However, Elena is completely out of her mind drunk. We sway and dance unsteadily as we make our way to our rooms. I do my best to steady both Elena and myself as I pull her along to her room. Once inside her room, we collapse onto her bed. She turns away and starts laughing. "You're so drunk, Iron Man. I miss Diego, I hate Diego, I hate my mother, I hate everyone—except for Daddy."

She wasn't sure of his drunkenness at first, but then she could hear the notable slurs in his voice, and the slight stammers, so it was quite obvious. Madison knew that a lot of people said things they didn't mean when they got drunk, and half the time they weren't even aware of what they were talking about, or doing at the moment. So this was another reason why she wouldn’t take his words seriously. It would be stupid believing his every word and expecting something, but then all she would get was another slap in the face. He had been completely wasted, and he would probably wake up in the morning not remember a thing. He probably wouldn't even remember he had called her, not to talk more o

“I am so, so sorry! I drank too much and said the wrong thing. Please accept my apology!” As he said that, he picked up the glass and downed several rounds of wine. He felt it was not enough and slapped himself twice. “I’ve said too much!” Weston seemed a little impatient. He casually rested his hand on the back of the chair and shook his wrist slightly. The person next to him immediately understood and gestured to the drunken man. “If you know you’ve said too much, don’t be an eyesore! You’ve drunk a lot. You’re not needed here anymore. Get out!”

he asked "no I have never, and decides I don't even drink alcohol" I replied and he laughed, knowing fully well that I was lying to him "so that lady I picked up from the club that day in a drunken state wasn't you? He asked and I hissed " but I can't drink and get drunk the way you did yesterday " I said " really, but why it's good to get drunk sometimes you know " he said and I hissed "you are crazy, it's good for you, not for me" I said trying to take his hand off because what the hands had began doing behind me it's terrible

' The man patted her on the shoulder, his face became dignified gradually, and he also shouted: 'I tell you, a man has no good thing, so you must not be fooled by him! 'Great minds think alike! Drink and drink! ' 'Sister, we women should be a little more car-scrapping. There are many good men in the world. Don't hang from a tree!' Two people drunk dizzy, even as sisters. Finally, it ended with Jones Davis' poor drinking. Watching her throw up on the table, the man suddenly woke up. What's he doing here? Why are you talking to her? The man rolled his eyes helplessly and made a strong ideological struggle, but he still couldn't do it.

Okay—no, he was definitely drunk. Not in a dangerous way. Just… floppy. The kind of drunk where every word came with extra vowels and every sentence ended in a giggle. “Liniiii,” he sang, “that movie—changed me spiritually. I wanna marry a wormhole bride—” “Alright,” Mr. Wright said, low and final. “That’s enough.” He stood up, picked up the empty glasses from the coffee table, and gave me a pointed look. “You should go back to your room.”

Waiting to suck up any support he finds. A man drowning who would take any hand stretched to him, even if it’s mine. What… ruined him like this?? “What are you doing here?” He slurs, and I come back to earth. “Here for a drink,” I reply, regaining my voice, and he huffs. “True. You ought to celebrate robbing me of my monetary…” He begins, but his words trail off, and I realise that alcohol is taking the driver's seat in his system right now.

He is already wasted but still coherent enough to recognize me, with the mask on. “I was going to send you the invite to a club I’m opening,” he slurs his words. He tumbles on his feet. Before he could reach down, he grabs the hand of a passing waiter. That made the waiter drop the glasses of champagne he was holding. The people close by that got hit growl in annoyance. The liquid in the glasses or shards of the glass were everywhere. They had to move out of the way. The drunk man didn’t care, too worried about speaking to me.