Thoughts of a lone drinker…

He perches on the bar stool. The bartender gives him what would pass for a religious nod. He answers with a similar nod as he takes his Tusker. He no longer needs to say what he wants. This has now turned into a ritual. He sips at his beer as he gazes at the screens, listens to the blaring music and smells the cigarette smoke in the air. Looks like all his senses are at work considering his palms can feel the cold on the bottles walls.

Source: beerlens.com

Source: beerlens.com

He has always wanted to believe he is eclectic, so he forces himself to love the music that is playing on the speakers. He watches with a smile as the screen comes alive with those “funny falls” and stupid pranks. The kind that would get him and his friends laughing in hysteria, laughs that would make any sane person think they were losing their minds. His friends, where were they? Some were too broke to visit a bar, some too proud to walk into such a local joint, the rest too opinionated to even give it a thought. So he kept to the one friend that would always be, as long as his wallet and bank notes made a sandwich – his beer.

He looks at the strangers around him. Faces that have since become familiar to him, he sees them here every day. They all look happy as the dance, converse and drown the drinks in their little tumblers. Most of them are taking cheap vodka. Like the one that gives the illusion that the sky is always blue and with a moon every time it gets dark. A few are taking beer like him, a drink that has been labeled a reserve for the well to do here. Most are in pairs, doing the grind which has in recent times been referred to as “twerking” in these streets. It gets him thinking about those who have been…

He remembers the first. That one was proud with a false sense of superiority.  This could pass for condescending. When it was time, ran away with another man. He finds comfort in the fact that he had the final word. He then gets to the second. The naïve blonde with a shrill voice, very sensitive but was also intelligent. He wouldn’t really tell whether she was actually blonde or a geek he couldn’t understand. But she annoyed him every time she got in between sheets with dusty feet.  Then there was the third, the one who thought no one could do anything better than they did, never thought anyone’s opinion mattered. This one must have been stupid and non-decided and left having done a lot of damage.

In between there happened to be a few flings. Interestingly enough two dark skins and two light skins, the first stubborn despite the fact that he wasn’t interested; the second was a convenience in times of desperation. Then there was the desperate light skin, who needed a wall to hit and bounce back. And lastly was the light skin he really wanted, she he always wanted to kiss but all he got was a bite on the neck.

He looked round again, identified target, sipped the last drop of beer in his bottle and got off the stool. He walked across the dark room to another table. This is where we get the next…

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5 thoughts on “Thoughts of a lone drinker…

  1. And then there was the one who took me to hell and back in a span of one week!One!Week! Hehehe, I like. I will try doing a continuation of this post.

  2. kerushkerubo says:

    Goodstuff! Especially the sandwich line 🙂 I could get behind this..

  3. […] it won’t be smooth sailing, there is a battle to be fought. He remembers ‘The First’ in “Thoughts of a lone drinker” once lied that scientists have proven that if you go past this sixth month, you are bound for […]

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