Two in the bush.

They were both in their early forties
but dressed and wore make-up
like they were trying to live vicariously
through their teenage daughters.
It was sad and painful to watch
from between the bottles on the other end
of the liquor store, their dirty blonde heads
yapping away like the ankle-biter dogs
that were probably waiting at home for them.

"Isn't this a good brand of vodka?" one asked the other.

"It must be. It's expensive. But my husband
swears by this one. Besides, no need to go all out
for the party."

Something told me her husband drank
whatever rotgut booze he could get his hands on
and with good reason. It's often easy
to pity a man you've never met at
a time like that. If the brief time I'd spent
in the presence of those two broads was any indicator
then there were probably a lot of nights spent
hiding in those vodka bottles after dinner.

"Excuse me, sir," the apparent alpha female hacked
in her mentholated cigarette rasp.

I glanced up from the bottle of red I was considering
and prayed she wasn't talking to me.
Even us heathens have a god in certain instances.
I lucked out.

"Yes?" replied the disinterested clerk from
behind the cluttered counter. I could see right through
his act. He was just as annoyed with these two as I was.

"Is there a discount on wine if it's bought by the case?
See, we're having this party, and..."

I could bore you with the facts and figures, but I won't.
Suffice it to say they got their damn discount
and then got the hell out of the store.

I had been waiting for them to stop taking up precious
real estate at the register so I could deposit my handles
of rum and vodka, my three bottles of cleverly named wine.
I set my alcohol down on the counter and waited for
the thirty-five-year-old clerk to ring me up.
Both of us were relieved with the store's restored silence.
The air had calmed as soon as the bells on the door quit ringing.

"You couldn't pay me enough to go to their party,"
I said as he started punching numbers into the register.
"Not without earplugs at least."

"I know exactly what you mean," he said.
The tone of his voice was appreciative; he was glad
that someone else had said what he'd been dying to say.

"Here, try a bottle of this," he said as he reached for some
vodka that was in a box to his left. "We're phasing it out."

This man I'd never met in my life took it upon himself
to repay my small gesture.

"Are you sure?" I asked as I handed him my bills.
I didn't want to take advantage of the guy, but who was I
to look a gift drunk in the mouth?

"Yeah. It's on me." His smile sealed the deal.

My ride home from the liquor store was vastly more
victorious than usual. Sure, I'd spent almost a day's pay
but that one bottle of free vodka made all the difference.
I knew I'd only gotten it because of my smartass remark
and that was fine by me. My demeanor has its benefits
when applied in the right situation, when I meet the right people.
Unfortunately, however, those people are being phased out
just like that free vodka.

It's not as bad as our mothers said it'd be.
It's worse.


Currently reading:
"The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Diaz.