She: You don’t have to drink all the whiskey.
Me: I sure as hell do.  We’ve established that it ain’t gonna drink itself.  So who’s going to drink it?  You?  Ha!
She: You know I can’t drink while I pregnant.
Me: My point exactly.  I’m drinking for two.  And also, for the record, not it.
She: You’re such an ass.
Me: I just need to be on record.
She:  I would never sleep with you.  I know you too well.
Me: That’s probably what you told the last guy, and now look at you.  My god…the state of you.
She: You’re trying to get me to drink.  Are you trying to get me to drink?  You are.  You’re trying to upset me so I have to take a drink.
Me:  What the hell are you doing here anyway?  At a bar?  If you can’t drink?
She: You insisted we meet here.    This is the only place you would meet me.
Me:  You’ve been getting a lot of looks.  “Why is that woman so great with child sidled up to the bar that serves the liquor?”
She:  How’s the book coming?
Me:  [growls] Don’t ask. [finishes any remaining whiskey within arm’s reach]
She: You don’t have to drink all the whiskey.

Me:  We’ve been over this.


N.P.: “Living in America” – James Brown

You may not leave a comment

Thank you for your interest, but as the headline says, you may not leave a comment. You can try and try, but nothing will come of it. The proper thing to do would be to use my contact form. What follows, well, that's just silliness.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>