fully possessed…

he took shots of tequila…two…three…four at a time…just stood there downin’ ’em at the kitchen sink…kept pourin’ Cuervo Especial…shook his head with each drop that went down his throat…pretty soon he got rid of the shot glass and just drank straight from the bottle…he’d place his thick lips on the top and chug away…as if it were water…didn’t bother with a lime or salt…took it straight…like he was punishin’ himself…maybe he was…

had a dead-end job at the fillin’ station…sat there night after night waitin’ to get robbed…got plenty of overtime…nobody wanted the job…took every shift he could get his hands on…did various tasks throughout the night…stock shelves…make coffee…make his hourly drop into the lock-box down below…had to keep his register at a certain amount…in ten years of workin’ there he’d only been robbed three times…all at gun point…somethin’ made him hold onto that job…somethin’…

maybe he was too lazy to go out and find another job…perhaps he was completely satisfied with the status quo…makin’ just a little more than minimum wage…all the free slushies he could drink though…he’d mix ’em with vodka and take breath mints throughout the night…’case his boss happened to wander in…

switched over to coffee just ‘fore morn…used lots of cream and sugar…he’d go through three pots before Sunrise…helped himself to a couple of Krispy Kreme’s as well…half drunk became a full sugar rush ‘fore he knew it…the things he’d do to get through the night…

but now he stood there at the sink downin’ shots of tequila…a forty year old man whose body had taken a beating…lived off of naps…never could get a full eight hours of sleep…spent his days drinkin’ and playin’ video games while Buck Owens played in the background…this was his life…

he’d had other jobs in the past…a college degree in History…at one time he taught high school…but he couldn’t stick with that…same way he couldn’t stick to marriage…it all looked good on paper…but it wasn’t him…he had a different agenda…pretty much just wanted to be kept alone…liked bein’ all by himself…’least that’s what he said…what he told his wife…she understood…said she’d expected it all along…knew she could never make him happy…why even try…

his true love was the bottle…more than anything in the world he loved the bottle…vodka…tequila…gin…whiskey…didn’t matter…he consumed all spirits…he was fully possessed…and that’s all that mattered to him…all he ever wanted…kept away from love…warmth of the human touch…just bottles of dreams…bottles of dreams…sometimes that’s all some people ever need…that’s what he figured…

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