Topic: Drunkard.

TheL0NER

Date: 2007-08-04 11:05 EST
The last time I'd been to the dockside it was for a funeral. This time however it was for pleasure...or at least I thought it was. My swagger was mingled and disrupted as if balancing on the limb of some giant tree which swayed in the wind. I'd been drunk for over a day, using the booze which was the only thing that actually kept me awake. It kept my head from pounding and my whistle wet. The docks were cold, wet and moldy as I'd left them. Nothing sounded aside from an occasional ship bell or the long toll of the bosain whistle. I needed neither rest nor relaxation did just the satisfying thrill of guzzling what ever take my fancy at the time. Wine stained my shirt. My hair hadn't been washed in days and the grit under my fingernails was almost a grouting betwixt a tiled floor. A seagull cried out. My sore eyes gazed upon it as it rest atop a bollard. It quirked his head at me as if to engage in some sort of conversation. I lifted my wine bottle to my thin lips and took a long pull. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve I approached the bird only to alarm it. The gull flew away and I shook my fist at it cursing. My eyes grew heavy and my bottle was empty. I looked for reprieve.

TheL0NER

Date: 2007-08-05 08:18 EST
I awoke in an alley. The stench of raw garbage assaulted my nostrils with a pungent green hue that strung from the waste cans like lingering smoke. My legs had kicked out before me bowlegged an awkward. My mouth was dry and my lips were cracked like the earth. Above the sound of the dock was the monotonous sound of buzzing garbage flies. My hangover amplified the sound as if I was listening to one hundred generators. I tried to move. My neck was rubber and felt as if my head had stopped but my brain kept moving getting smashed into the back of my forehead. I decided not to move. I watched a fly land on my hand and crawl around dabbing at my work warn hands with its stick like mouth. I waved my hand a bit, the fly sailing to the air only to land back on the same spot. I grunted. I couldn't remember how I got there. I couldn't remember what had happened the night before....or what time nor day. I tried to move again but failed to motivate my body. I passed out again.

TheL0NER

Date: 2007-08-06 15:21 EST
My eyes opened slowly. The sun shone high in the sky and rayed down upon the alley. I could think much clearer and got to my feet. My hat hung loosely on my head and fell to the filthy ground. I bent and picked it up. On my left hand was a patch of dried blood. It crusted from my finger tips, down into my palm and betwixt my fingers. I examined it closely. Bits of clot flaked from it as I bent my thin fingers. "Have I been cut?" I pondered, my brain feeling like pancake batter. Closer examination reviled that there was no wound on my hand. I snorted then began to cough, phlegm catching in my throat. I gasped for a breath and caught the rancid stench of the rotting garbage to my left. Dry heaving I braced my self against the brick wall and puked vile red wine tannin. My eyes watered, burning as exposed to the lighting of a magnificent sulfur match. I shuttered, choking down in attempt to control myself. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. I was in sure need of another drink to cure me. That was the only cure. I spit a few times aiming the shot betwixt my boots where is landed with a smack. Standing tall I felt the my blood rush to my head where it pounded greater than before and hunched back over using my eyebrows to regulate the pain. I made my way to the end of the ally. A rat scurried across my path turned snickered at me. At the end of the tunnel I could see an occasional carriage drive past and sailors. I felt the back of my head. There was a crust of blood that entwined my hair and matted it down to my head.

TheL0NER

Date: 2007-08-15 15:52 EST
Before I could get to the end of the alley way and step into the bright sun three figures stood silhouetted in my path. Their shadows stretched up the side of the brick wall like an oil spill. The first one was an Ork. He was tall and muscular like most orks and he wore a dirty tunic. In his large green hands he carried a club, the other two where men with long bushy beards and moustaches. On their sides they sported long swords. It was McLowrery's men, Job, Grenden and Edwards, a bunch of common street thugs. "You. Stop right there!" The ork demanded. He tapped his club into his large palm. "We've been looking for you for a long time." The other two sneered at me as if looking at a disgusting dinner. "Me?" I croaked. Not having spoken with my parched voice. "I think you got the wrong guy." "No?" The Ork chuckled. "We got you right were we want you." The men rushed me before I could draw my guns and knocked be backward over a trash can and into the side of the wall. They picked me up and planted a few fists in my ribs. I puked. "Damn it, Grenden. The bloke vomited on me favorite boots!" The man on the right said and then clocked me across my face. "Look, Mate. We know what you did last night and everyone on this side of Rhydin is lookin" for you. I could care less why you did it"it ain't my business. The only thing I want is the money for McLaowery." "I got it"I got it"but it's at my apartment." I lied. Pain shot through my nose. They jostled me against the wall. "Not takin" that fer an answer. You know I owe ya one, n that's why I'm not gonna turn ya in. Besides?" He looked at Job with a smile. "How would we get the Boss his money if yer a deadman?" "That's so'so"kind of you." I managed to squeek. "Y'd better have it in the next two days er the boss ain't gonna be so happy and I'm afraid even old debts aren't gonna pardon this n."

TheL0NER

Date: 2009-09-04 12:30 EST
I lay in the gutter for until dark after they left. Slowly my head stopped its knife sharp pounding and dulled enough for me to get to my feet. I was in sore shape. I had to get to my apartment although I knew there was a chance of someone waiting for me there. I spit a stream of stagnant blood that had been wallowing in my cheek. Still had all my teeth. My cloths wreaked of garbage. I weaved my way down the ally, bracing myself on the brick wall with my shoulder and onto the main street, the combination torch light and neon signs making me wince.

TheL0NER

Date: 2011-11-05 13:28 EST
Through a combination of tact and cloak I was able to sneak to the block on which my apartment lay. It was in an old flat called the "Carriage House" and was nothing more than a flat for junkies and derelicts. It had no electricity and the only running water was in the filthy communal bathrooms on the end of each floor. The front desk had one electric light without a shade that was ominous and an ancient black and white television. They where plugged into a long woven cord that coiled around the wall, out one of the iron bared windows and snaked down the alley then disappeared. One gas streetlight posted in front of the building only illuminating only the "house" half of the apartments weathered sign. There was a Persian carpet that had a trail warn into it. The once bright red carpet was now dulled to a muddy burgundy. It started to rain. An oak trim that must have once been stunning outlined the walls but now looked as if neglected for decades. There was a cool drop in temperature and the moisture brought a musty smell of earth and asphalt. It was almost comforting. I had picked up a small bottle of brandy and finished it on the way. I felt better. The door of the flat was open and the attendant was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed and posted on the desk intently watching the tube. Her face flickered with the changing pictures of the television.