Status: Shittiest work in progress
Dragons and Drinks
Second
“One time I heard this saying that had something to do with girls and angry dragons. I was six. When I heard it. The saying made them sound scary and unapproachable, and I mostly blame my lack of girlfriends on that fact entirely.
I think I had one girl I was interested in a few years back. I remember the first day I met her because it was the first day I wore my new fox tail hat and I thought I looked mysterious and bad ass. She had long dirty blonde hair and black lined dark eyes that practically stabbed me with just one glance. She always wore leggings and old t shirts with old band names on them.
We rode the city bus at the same time. And always ended up in the same places. I mean, that was probably because after I finally said hey to her I asked where her favorite shops and restaurants were then visited them when I wanted to see her. But I'm sure it was also fate.
I remember one day in particular. I sat next to her at a local coffee shop that she had told me she favored the day before. She had worn a fiery red and orange shirt with faded black letters and a pair of gray leggings. She looked like she was on fire, and it was lovely. Her hair was a frizzy mess. We had a real conversation that day. I told her about the dragon saying and she said that was complete bullshit. We talked about coffee. I told her I enjoyed peppermint mocha’s and vanilla lattes, she said the idea of coffee made her want to throw up but she liked the feeling. I asked her about her favorite thing to do, she talked about guns for half an hour.
She was terrifying and interesting. She scared me, ill be honest. And she almost always smelled of smoke. While walking her home that day from the coffee shop I realized something that made me want to laugh a little. I had found my dragon.”
That probably hadn't been what the counselor wanted, but whatever. It was my happiest memory to date. He asked about my favorite memory. What was I suppose to tell him about? The weeks I spent locked up in my apartment thinking of different ways I could possibly die? How about the time I got ran over by a bus, but lived and that very fact made me cry for hours? He wanted something happy, that was all I had.
He allowed me to go home on the account that he just couldn't stand to talk to me any longer. I ran with it. More time in the daylight to drink. Drinking at night makes for more danger for me. That's when the dragons come out.
***
I got home and found a note on my door step. “Hey Johnny Rosco, guess what were doing for your birthday? Three words: Bar, chicks, drinks. Deal? Of course it is. Much love, Pete.” Like hell I'm going out on my birthday. I'll probably just lay in bed smoking cancer sticks in the hope that as another year passes, ill lose double that. Cancer is far more fun then gross whores and weak drinks. I turned the note over. “P.S. Shave. I can't even see you and I already know you look like a gross cave man who would probably lose a small dog in your beard.” He made a good point.
I think I had one girl I was interested in a few years back. I remember the first day I met her because it was the first day I wore my new fox tail hat and I thought I looked mysterious and bad ass. She had long dirty blonde hair and black lined dark eyes that practically stabbed me with just one glance. She always wore leggings and old t shirts with old band names on them.
We rode the city bus at the same time. And always ended up in the same places. I mean, that was probably because after I finally said hey to her I asked where her favorite shops and restaurants were then visited them when I wanted to see her. But I'm sure it was also fate.
I remember one day in particular. I sat next to her at a local coffee shop that she had told me she favored the day before. She had worn a fiery red and orange shirt with faded black letters and a pair of gray leggings. She looked like she was on fire, and it was lovely. Her hair was a frizzy mess. We had a real conversation that day. I told her about the dragon saying and she said that was complete bullshit. We talked about coffee. I told her I enjoyed peppermint mocha’s and vanilla lattes, she said the idea of coffee made her want to throw up but she liked the feeling. I asked her about her favorite thing to do, she talked about guns for half an hour.
She was terrifying and interesting. She scared me, ill be honest. And she almost always smelled of smoke. While walking her home that day from the coffee shop I realized something that made me want to laugh a little. I had found my dragon.”
That probably hadn't been what the counselor wanted, but whatever. It was my happiest memory to date. He asked about my favorite memory. What was I suppose to tell him about? The weeks I spent locked up in my apartment thinking of different ways I could possibly die? How about the time I got ran over by a bus, but lived and that very fact made me cry for hours? He wanted something happy, that was all I had.
He allowed me to go home on the account that he just couldn't stand to talk to me any longer. I ran with it. More time in the daylight to drink. Drinking at night makes for more danger for me. That's when the dragons come out.
***
I got home and found a note on my door step. “Hey Johnny Rosco, guess what were doing for your birthday? Three words: Bar, chicks, drinks. Deal? Of course it is. Much love, Pete.” Like hell I'm going out on my birthday. I'll probably just lay in bed smoking cancer sticks in the hope that as another year passes, ill lose double that. Cancer is far more fun then gross whores and weak drinks. I turned the note over. “P.S. Shave. I can't even see you and I already know you look like a gross cave man who would probably lose a small dog in your beard.” He made a good point.