This may be a time of war, starvation, homelessness and despair but its rare for me to be truly horrified. But, this was a truly terrible confession by Mr R (to keep anonymity). It took some minutes for me to stop shaking with the dread. Well Mr R was out on the town having some beers. All good so far. It has to be done after all. I’d like to imagine he was chatting up everything with a skirt.
And as is customary he decided to have some vodka when he got home. As God would have intended. Well, after pouring himself a triple or so, he had a sip and let the taste hit his tongue.
But he decided that he had his fill and threw it down the sink.
“How could you?” I said
“It’s just so wrong?”
“Think of all the alcos dying for a drop, how do you live with yourself?”
The horror.
All those years of patience, seeking perfection ruined.
Perhaps, it started its life as a potato out in a field full of hope that someday in the future, it could be distilled into the most perfect vodka before being drank by a good man. Hopes now cruelly dashed.
I think of that partially empty bottle of vodka, all alone in a fridge somewhere wondering what is the meaning of it all.
It’ll take time folks but I’ll be okay. Each hour I’m thinking about that beautiful full glass of vodka, a little bit less. I’m strong, I can do it.
Mark's Writing Corner 