Prologue - Part 2

            He laughed, “You’re sure right about that, you know...”

            Fuck! Just shut up! Just because I answer your questions doesn’t mean I like you or want to converse with you.

            “...that’s why I can’t stand them little people.”

            What? Never mind, it’s not worth it.

            “Thanks again for the drinks,” I put the object back into my pocket and pulled out enough cash to pay the bill plus an insult of a tip, “I hope I don’t see you next time.” Picked up my leather jacket from the seat of the bar stool I was sitting on, put it on and reached into my pants pocket and grabbed my car keys and turned to walk out.

            “And I hope you fucking crash.” He laughed; I turned my head to the side and gave him a sneer. He didn’t see or care that I had.

            Anyone who didn’t know us or didn’t visit the bar that often would have thought we hated each other. Truth is we see each other almost every day so we kind of had to put up with each other. He put up with me because of obligatory customer service and I put up with him because he was the only bartender in the only decent bar in town. Love-hate relationship, they’re everywhere and we all have them.

            It was getting dark and the alcohol wasn’t helping me concentrate, I was losing my grasp on my mind which isn’t good when the night is starting and you still have to drive.

            Come on, you can do this. Alcohol is in my body, my body is controlled by my brain and I control my brain!

                Just like that my vision focused and I was standing firm. I was once again sober and ready to drive. How did I do that? You aren’t ready to know, not yet anyway. You have to learn the same way I did.

               I gave a look around for my car and spotted it right away, after all how could you miss a yellow 1976 Oldsmobile Cutlass? I got in and turned the key far enough to just turn on the radio. I sat motionless staring out the window for what felt like forever but must have only been a couple of minutes. There was no way for me to know since my car had no clock and I didn’t care enough to grab my cell phone from the passenger seat. Instead I cracked the driver side window an inch then reached into the right pocket of my jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes with about seven left in the pack and a lighter. Slowly I took one out, put it up to my lips, lit it and inhaled. As I exhaled, watching the fresh air from outside mix and manipulate with the cigarette smoke.