Marked Down Malt Liquor

“Dad said you are going with me to see my psychiatrist tomorrow,” I told my mother waiting on Papa John’s to deliver a pepperoni pizza tonight. “He said he was going to give me some money so we can eat at Red Lobster afterwards (I could never afford Red Lobster for Mom and me).”

“When did he say that?” She asked me, looking ill tempered.
The dormant drunk within me got excited at the prospect, just like George, which did more to sober me up from my dry drunk than a kettle of coffee.
“I talked to him on the phone an hour ago.”

“I can’t go tomorrow,” Mom then said brusquely, clearly not wanting to fool with me and my appointment. “I am going to tell your father to stuff it!”

Boy, did I not want to get caught in the middle of that little battlefront brewing. I paid for my pizza and walked home. I don’t know why I have my pizzas delivered to my parent’s house. I guess I feel it is easier to find being on the main thoroughfare through our neighborhood.

I ate a whole large pepperoni pan pizza to myself and then talked on the phone for a moment with George.

“They’ve got the Schlitz Malt Liquor priced wrong over at the convenience store by the cotton mill,” George said. “They are normally $5.99 and they be chargin’ $2.99.”

I laughed heartily at George and his juicy gossip.

“That is just what you need,” I told George sarcastically. “A drunk with marked down malt liquor.”

George laughed and then asked me if I would go in on a few six packs until he could pay me back. It was safe for George to tell me such clandestine gossip being that I no longer drink these days. Although, it sure was tempting to go get a six pack of tall boys for $2.99. The dormant drunk within me got excited at the prospect, just like George, which did more to sober me up from my dry drunk than a kettle of coffee.