A Drunk Man's Words Novels & Stories

As if he read my mind, he began to explain, “Surprised? You weren't listening properly last night, I did say you were an exception, meaning if you were to convince me just a little more, I'd have throw them out anyway and nobody has to go drinking; getting drunk” There's a way the exception rolled out of his tongue. I shouldn't be thinking about how sexy he made it sound, because I should be more worried about his emphasis on ‘getting drunk’ So, not only did I not win, I did make fun of myself by getting drunk? Now it makes sense, “I didn't do anything funny did I?” I whispered. “Not really… just thing's drunk people did.” He shrugged. “I'm not a drunk.” I protested, as I turned to the fridg

The empty bottle slipped from my fingers and crashed against the floor. "Shit." My head was spinning. I stumbled toward the kitchen where more alcohol was kept. Before I could reach it, Manuel stepped in front of me. "Sir, you've had enough." I glared at him. "The hell I have." "Simon, please. You're drunk." I laughed bitterly. "Drunk?" I pointed at myself. "Of course I'm drunk. My life is falling apart and you want me sober?" "You're not thinking clearly." "Get out of my way."

His face was calm, like last night had been nothing more than a private hallucination my own body had ordered up to humiliate me. That annoyed me instantly. “I didn’t realize a person could get drunk, start talking like a tragic nineteenth-century character, then reset into a corporate robot before seven in the morning.” His gaze lifted to me, blue and steady. “Morning.” “That’s it?” I opened the fridge. “What were you expecting?” He took a sip of his coffee. “A speech full of regret?” “I was hoping you’d at least look a little embarrassed for making me listen to your drunken philosophy.” “I drank too much last night,” he said lightly. “You don’t need to take any of it seriously.”

" , He asked and at his question , l sucked in my breath. " I know the words you spoke when you were drunk , that evidently showed that your life isn't good" , He added and at that l raised up my head and looked at him but still I didn't reply him . " You know how hard it took me to control myself " , He continued this time while walking towards the bed .

Fuck. "Do you know who the fuck I am?" I asked. My tone was cold and deadly serious. My guards walked up behind me and they also held out their guns. "I do," the man said with a chuckle. "If so, then you know you are as good as dead. No one fucks with my business," I said sternly. "I know." The man smiled with glee. What the fuck? He was clearly intoxicated. What the fuck was he doing here drunk off his ass?

I don’t even know where the time goes, but the noise of the bar is distant, like it’s happening in someone else’s world. I drink, and drink, and drink, until I’m floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious. A voice cuts through my thoughts. “Mind if I sit here?” I look up, squinting. I’m drunk, my vision blurry, and the words slur as I respond. “Yeah, whatever.” A man slides into the seat beside me. He talks about the weather, or something about the bar being crowded. I don’t listen. I just nod. His voice is background noise to the storm in my head. I can’t focus on anything. The whiskey’s working its magic.

He had stood up from a table of similarly looking drunks. Ignoring him must have been the best option. “I don’t want to interrupt your asinine interactions with your peers…” He looked at me as if I had spoken in a foreign tongue, I knew he would be too drunk to understand what I was saying, if he could even understand the word when sober anyway. I turned to leave but he held my hand. “I’m sure you don’t want to go into that storm again aiit.” He snickered, drawing some equally mocking laughs from the drunk men he shared a table with.

She wandered away from Cainan towards Lisa, letting her concern and need to protect a good friend lead her on. “We wouldn’t have so much problem if you didn’t keep dragging yourself into it!” he snapped harshly, but Lisa didn’t even flinch. She seemed to be used to such outbursts with him. “Lisa, I hope everything is well.” She spoke, announcing her presence. “We are fine,” the man abruptly slurred, hinting that he was drunk already. “get me another glass of wine.” he handed her his wine glass. Being drunk didn’t make one this stupid. He must have been born that way.

he says pouring the gl*ss into one gl*ss and handing it over to me. This is hopeless. I drop the gl*ss upon the table, gently sliding it to him, I'm surprised he would even let me get drunk despite knowing how I am, "You don't understand, I might do things," I tell him. "I get it," he says. "Crazy stupid things." "I get it." This man, doesn't he understand what I'm trying to say?! Irritated I seize him by the collar but the wine from his gl*ss ends up spilling upon my face. In this awkward moment, I'm not sure whether I should cry or yell at him.

15 ( Behold, it appears from nowhere And time is closing around it If nothing is going very well in the drunkard's life With her here, it will only get worse I'll tell you what it's like, wherever you are You're totally speechless You can't speak anymore, like someone who sees you freeze The moment she enters the salon And he'll drink, he'll fall, get up and start drinking again Only with a lot of sacrifice he gets home in the morning Until then, it's okay, but it's every day, yes, another one too