Fiction 1

Below is a fictional piece, and it’s the product of thirty minutes of writing, and revising.
Estimated read time: 4 minutes.

Part I
People don’t make the best decisions while they’re drunk. As I down another shot my vision dims temporarily before sharpening once more. Thank goodness for livers. The fine gentleman across from me does the same, granted, with much more reluctance.

I begin counting the number. Two. He takes one. Three. Then me. Four. He’s clearly done by now, and it looks like his veins are coursing with more alcohol than blood. I take the fifth one, but slowly enough to be dramatic. The music blares in the background, the cheers becoming intermingled with the occasional jeer, and slowly the crowd’s voice rises as one, egging the two of us on. He shakily fumbles around to pick up the glass, and he wilts over. Another guy who’s clearly had too much to drink slams his hands on the table, tapping out his fallen compatriot. Well, that was the last one. You know, I should probably get home soon. They were such enlightening company. The cold air outside fills my lungs as I step outside. I watch as a jelly-legged man staggers into a taxi with his mates.

“The stars are out tonight,” a young fellow says to his date. I smile and look up at the sky and stuff my hands into my money filled pockets. I look at my expenditures related to my inhumane consumption of alcohol. Speaking of alcohol running through my veins, wow, being immortal might not be so bad after all!

Part II
A stout man with dark gray hair and a well-groomed mustache slammed his glass down next to his companion. “You won’t believe this Jones, but I think that fellow over there is an alien. What do ya think?”

“Think you might have had a bit too much Frank,” Jones replied cooly. He swirled the contents of his glass around and took another sip.

“But you don’t understand, this, this… is the real deal! What he does is absolutely unnatural.” Frank wavered, holding the bar stool tightly.

“Is that so?” Jones turned towards his companion. “Well, do tell, where is that alien of yours now?”

“He’s here, for sure…always draws a crowd,” he murmured as he looked around. “I’ve been to this bar every Friday night for the past 20 years. A little more than a month ago, this guy shows up and starts drinking liquor like it was water. I didn’t take much note of him the first time. Saw him as just another new fellow that settled in this town, just like yourself.” Jones’ ears perked up at the comment.

“Should be an interesting one then, that’s for sure. I hope you’re not wasting my time now.”

“There!” Frank motioned with his glass. Sure enough, there was a crowd forming around two men, shot glasses strewn on their table. Jones adjusted his seat and silently began watching. Two men were in the middle of a drinking competition. One was the mid-twenties looking individual, while the other was a middle-aged gentleman. He recognized the elder man as Gerald, one of his neighbors. He’d been to his housewarming party and provided him a generous gift–a twenty dollar gift card to Items and Stuff. He was snapped out of his thoughts when one of the men next to Gerald had enthusiastically begun smashing his fists into the table, like a referee in a boxing ring. The man across from the now slumped Gerald simply grinned and started collecting money from his audience.

“Frank?” said Jones to Frank, who had been enamored by the scene. “Frank,” He repeated, more firmly now. “what did you say this man’s name was?” Frank sat back down, broken from his trance.

“I don’t know for sure. He’s made himself a landmark of sorts around here. No one knows his actual name, but some patrons started calling him Liquor Jesus.” Frank seemed to sense Jones’ confusion, as he quickly finished. “You know, like he turns liquor into water, instead of the other way around.” He chuckled to himself. “Now, that man is something, I just don’t know what.” Jones listened half-heartedly as he saw the man straighten his outfit, and stepped out of the building.

“Well, you may be onto something after all Frank. Or it may be nothing. Either way, it’s piqued my interest.” Jones propped his hat back on his head and started walking out. “See you tomorrow.”
“What, you’re leaving early?” Jones nodded. “Thinking of possible leads?” asked Frank.

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing else on my plate right now so I’ll look into it.”

“Well, good luck then detective!” exclaimed Frank, as he watched Jones walk out of the bar.


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