I am tired. I say my obligatory goodbyes, and begin making my way out of the bar that I frequent so often.
I parked down the block some because the cops pass by there a lot less often, and if I am a bit merry when I walk out, I've got a better chance surviving coming out of down here. As I walk, I see a guy fall into step with me behind me.
He's far too drunk to mean any harm, and if he did I'd end his day very quickly because I'm sober as a priest and on my guard.
"Hey bro.. you need a ride?" I ask.
"Ahh, I'm walkin home dude, I live like, I don't know, down there, not far. It ain't bad."
"You sure?" I ask.
"Ahhh well.... if you don't mind..."
Being as I walked three miles last Saturday morning trying to get home, I feel this poor bastard. It was an hour before someone I knew pulled over and told me to get in because I was obviously too drunk too function, even at 8 in the morning.
"C'mon fucker. It's over here."
As we walk into the vacant lot, he asks, "Which one's yours?"
I point to her. She's silver and the light is gleaming off every corner, and it's clear in my mind that I've replaced women with material things and I am fucking FINE with that.
He opens his gaze through drunken eyes. "Wow... nice ride man," he says, a kind of stunned sound in his voice.
"Goddamn right," I say with a grin. "You puke in her, and I'll kill you."
I say it with a smile, and he half-laughs, like he knows I'm kidding...kind of.
Later on I will gun it through a red light even though I shouldn't, but I can't help it.
I did what I went to the bar to do, and even did a good deed on the way, and walked out sober. Some days, you feel like you ate your goddamn Wheaties.