Living on a steady flow of high-octane ethyl alcohol for half of my life, my digestive system adapted to process drag racing fuel, not the nutritive pyramid of the four basic food groups.
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My Higher Power
Asking an omnipotent being to intercede with my petty personal problems just seems arrogant. If I trust that it has a perfect plan, then who am I to question it?
The sin tax
Fireball was my latest thing, not because I liked the cloying sweetness of the cinnamon flavored syrup, but because I needed the respite of the cheap corn whiskey. The grocery store service counter sold the little bangers for ninety-nine cents a pop, plus applicable taxes. The sin tax.
All the tiny bottles
A bartender once told me that there were exactly nine drops left in every “empty” liquor bottle. I don’t doubt the accuracy of that statement. I’m sure that the brilliant mind responsible for this revelation was undoubtedly a drunk in the process of reluctantly drying out.
Andrew Tomacelli 