A Drunk Man's Words Novels & Stories

“It feels like pain.” Jackson’s eyes reddened. “You know the worst part?” Johnny said nothing. “I still can’t hate either of you.” That confession embarrassed him immediately, so he drank again. By the time an hour passed, Jackson’s words slurred. “You’re… annoyingly decent sometimes.” Johnny sighed. “That’s the alcohol talking.” “No,” Jackson pointed badly. “The alcohol hates you.” Johnny paid the bill. “Come on.” The Ride Home Helping a drunk man into a car was never dignified.

"...people like me." 'People like me? He thought, what was that supposed to mean?' Is the saying true that the words of a drunk man words are his sober thoughts? If he isn't speaking gibberish that is. He stared at her lips about to do something stupid, something she would probably regret when she was sober. "I hope you won't remember this when you wake." Then he kissed her. ___

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

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.

I tried to cover my fear and take some information from that cold man. "So, last night I was drunk, completely wasted. You know people when they get drunk they say or do things they don't mean it. And I.. maybe I said and did something, but look I apologize for whatever I said and did." I followed him behind talking like a parrot all the time, but not a single word got out of that man's mouth until we reached a door. He knocked before opening the door for me. "This isn't the way out." My hands were trembling and my knees went weak.

he said His words fell on deaf ears. One can never have a decent conversation with a drunk. I left him and staggered my way home. The next morning I woke up with the usual; a mind blowing headache and dizziness- the joys of alcohol. I was sleeping on my cot in a hot Thursday afternoon when a knock came on my door. I sluggishly opened the door and it was the strange man I met last night. At first I didn’t remember him till he shuffled my memory. I welcomed him inside my home.