Drink in case of Emergency

by Oliver, Carl

  “I can pick some up this morning.” Scott paused a moment before asking his next question, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. “You’re really going to lie to them about a death in the family? Doesn’t that seem a little dishonest?”

  Scott wasn’t actually surprised. Chris worked at a mid sized bakery a couple miles away. They made white and wheat bread locally for a well known brand. At one time Scott had been reassured to know that his bread was made locally, instead of shipped in from Mexico or something. Since he had moved in with Chris, he had a more intimate glimpse of the quality of people who worked there, and had since switched brands.

  “Well it’s not really lying. It’s more like speaking in code.” Chris responded as he found the ground beef in the back of the freezer and pulled it out.

  “Code?” Scott echoed, not really understanding Chris’s line of thought.

  “Yeah...the code.” Chris paused before continuing. “Scott, If I called and told you that I wasn’t going to be around this weekend because my great Aunt Gertrude died, how would you interpret that message?” Chris was opening the cabinet where they kept the liquor.

  “I would assume you got tickets to some music festival and were going on a three day bender.” Scott said blandly as he moved to the countertop to start the coffee maker.

  “Exactly. You would assume I was lying about my excuse, but not about the outcome. I was most definitely not going to be around this weekend. The point being, they don’t really care if I’m there or not, so long as I give them notice of my absence as well as what they deem a legitimate reason.” Chris spoke these words into the cupboard as he shuffled bottles of liquor around.

  “And they know that you’re lying about this?” While not surprised, Scott did feel a little disgusted at the lack of professionalism.

  “For the third time. It’s not a lie; it is a code. I know you’re a smart guy, Scott. But sometimes you really need to work on your people skills. They need to know I won’t be there so they can call in one of the part timers for a few extra hours, and they need something that looks legitimate on the books in case they get audited 5 years down the road by corporate.”

  “Whatever.” Scott knew it wasn’t worth arguing with Chris. “Do you wanna come with me on my errands so we can go straight over to Justin’s then?”

  Chris turned to face Scott for the first time, scratching the thick black stubble on his chin, his blue eyes lighting up. “Well I have to get my mourning clothes on...but then I’m ready to roll,” he said with a small wink.

  *****

  An electronic “Ding-Dong” rang through the liquor department of the Mega-Low-Mart as Justin and Tyler walked in through the automatic door. They each had the tiny swagger in their step of those who have had a drink or two, with Tyler having a little more swagger than Justin. An overweight man in his late 40’s waved at them from behind the checkout counter.

  “Welcome to Mega-Low-Mart!” Tyler recognized the clerk’s enthusiasm as genuine. His nametag read “Tom!” Exclamation point and all. “You boys celebrating the meteor shower tonight?” Tom! asked as the two friends sauntered past.

  “Meteor shower?” Justin was taken aback by the randomness of the question. “There’s a meteor shower tonight?”

  “Of course! It’s all over the news. Supposed to be a doozy, a real once in a lifetime event. Something about a lot of space dust riding on some invisible comet. It’s going to be pretty spectacular.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re celebrating, Tom.” Tyler’s words carried the same amount of enthusiasm as ‘Tom!’s. Justin could tell that Tyler was slipping into his first drunk stage, verbal diarrhea. The uncontrollable urge to say anything and everything that comes to mind.

  Justin also noticed how Tom’s eyes were both wide with excitement and empty at the same time. “Anything I can help you guys with today?”

  “Thanks but no thanks, Tom.” Tyler replied with a wink he never would have used without the four beers he had already drank. “We’re here for drunk juice and we know exactly where to find it.” Walking towards the back of the store, they began a search as old as civilization itself. The search for a substance or experience that will dramatically alter one’s perspective.

  “So what should we get fucked up on today?” Justin asked wryly as they browsed past a wall of vodka stacked fifteen feet high. Under normal circumstances, he wasn’t much of a drinker. It had seemed like Tyler had been a little ‘off’ for the last few months though, and he was honestly a little worried about leaving him alone right now.

  When in Rome...

  Tyler replied cheerfully, “I dunno, I’ve already had my beer before whatever liquor we end up with, so it’s bound to be a rough night.” Tyler’s answer was a comment on the old wives tale “Beer before liquor, never been sicker. Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.” He paused to admire a sculpture of sorts, built out of cases of beer to look like the Chicago Bears logo. “Hey...How many lives do you think could be ruined with the amount of alcohol in this room?” Tyler had always been full of these hypothetical questions that were usually completely unrelated to whatever was being discussed, and Justin usually played along.

  Justin looked up and down the aisle they were in, and then along the length of the store. “Ballpark estimate? One thousand, five hundred and twenty three. Give or take a few hundred, depending on individual tolerances.” Justin, having been friends with Tyler for a long time, had learned that it was more fun to play along with these random questions than to argue with their logic. Tyler stopped his saunter and paused to look around, a look of thoughtful wonder on his face.

  “You know...I think you may be right!” He exclaimed, a little more excited than Justin had expected. “I believe you...” Tyler gestured boldly at himself with both hands, “but still..it’s a math problem, so show your work.” This was still well within ordinary behavior for Tyler with four beers in his system.

  “Remember Cody Parbell?” Tyler nodded in recognition of the name, an old friend from high school, neither were all that close with. “Two years ago, when he had his meltdown, he left his pregnant wife and drove to Mexico or wherever he ended up, never to be seen again.” Tyler continued to nod. The cautionary tale of Cody Parbell was local legend. “I was there when he melted down, and prior to his freakout, he put away a bottle and a half of tequila.” Justin was running his hand across a shelf full of spiced rum as he explained the rest. “I figure there’s around 200 bottles of liquor per aisle, and the store has 10 aisles for liquor.”

  “You’re forgetting about the wife and child, as well as the wine and beer though.” Tyler gestured toward the rest of the store.

  Justin tilted his head in jest, “I think we both know that beer and wine haven’t ruined any lives that weren’t going down the crapper anyway. Maybe sped things up, but never ruined on their own.” Tyler shrugged in half agreement, and Justin continued. “And this might be terrible to say, but that kid might be better off never knowing that his father might be working as a drug mule for Mexican gangs now.”

  “Touche.”

  Justin was actually mentally backtracking now, doing the math in his head, multiplying the number of bottles and aisles, multiplying by 1.5...or was it divide by 1.5? What about the bottles that were bigger than the standard size? While this math battle was waging in his head, the two continued their slow swagger until they reached the aisle for gin.

  “Yep...I think tonight’s a good night for Angry Christmas.” Tyler reached for his favorite brand of gin, the label of which had the image of a Christmas tree on fire. It was also, naturally, the least expensive brand.

  “You sure? Last time you had that stuff you almost moved back in with old whats-her-face.” Justin knew that her name was actually Tiffany, but it had become a taboo name around Tyler, hence the nickname that was now used in its place.

  “Yeah...but that’s only because I mixed it with orange juice. Everyone knows that too much vitamin C messes up yo
ur thinking.” Tyler bluffed as he pulled two bottles from the shelf and set them in the shopping cart.

  “Two bottles today? I’m not touching that stuff buddy. I told Beth I wouldn’t overdo it anymore. Last time I got drunk with you, we got in this huge fight and almost broke up. I’m sticking to beer tonight.” Justin was thumbing through a mixology book that was on sale.

  “I know you can’t stand the high class taste of my gin.” Tyler was still gesturing too much with his hands. He hadn’t drank that much yet, had he? Justin got a little more worried. “These are both for me. I figure if one and a half bottles ruin a life, and my life’s already ruined, logic says that it will put me back on track. Two left turns make a right.” Tyler continued eyeing the bottles that were going to turn his life around, while Justin was doubting his logic. “What was the fight about anyway?” Tyler asked as he walked past Justin and rounded the corner into the first aisle of red wines.

  “I don’t remember, something about her thinking I was cheating on her because I met you guys out at the bar instead of having you come over? I’m a little fuzzy on the memory, on account of some jackass buying me a half dozen shots that night.” Justin called over the aisle as he returned the mixology book back to the shelf.

  “Jackass? That man was a saint. The patron saint of fuzzy navels.” Tyler called back, perhaps a little too loud. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand some of the women you pick, buddy.” I do remember that night. The only girl you talked to was the bartender, and even that consisted of you rebuffing her flirting and paying the bill. Beth is a little too hands on.” Tyler picked up a bottle of merlot, glancing at the label before replacing it. “Does she like red wine? I feel kinda bad that she’s going to come home to a house of drunken male mourning.”

  “Shit...Yeah, grab a bottle of red for her. I should call her and let her know.” Justin pulled out his cellphone as Tyler picked the bottle back up and added it to the cart.

  “Make sure she knows I’m really broken up about the lost job. I’m gonna go grab some more beer. I’m pretty sure we’re going to need it.” Tyler called over his shoulder as he skipped away to the beer cooler. Justin stayed with their shopping cart and left a quick voicemail explaining the situation to Beth’s cell phone.

  Ten minutes later they were back with Tom! at the checkout lane. Five minutes after that, they were piling back into Tyler’s Stratus, with Justin behind the wheel.

  The lumps of charcoal on the grill were red hot and crackling quietly as five thick bratwurst began popping and sizzling from the scorching heat. The sweet smell of grilled meat filled the air as Justin, Tyler, Chris and Scott sat on lawn chairs, each sipping on a beer.

  “...All I’m saying is that it’s not THAT weird. If a woman wanted to eat a sandwich while having sex, most men wouldn’t complain. But a guy does it, and suddenly he’s not being intimate enough.” Chris was arguing his point with Justin, who argued more for the sake of listening to Chris’s unique form of logic. Scott interrupted, changing the subject.

  “So, what’s your plan, Tyler?” Scott had been quiet for the last few minutes, seeming content with listening to the discussion. His voice was softened with concern. “Do you have anything lined up? Do you need help with your resume? I ran a workshop on resume building last semester if you want any help.” Tyler replied, moving his voice to match Scott’s soft tone.

  “Scott, you’re a good friend. What I really need from you right now is the education and experience of another beer.” Scott rolled his eyes at this, but still reached behind him to grab another can out of the cooler and tossed it nonchalantly to Tyler. Tyler caught the beer and tilted his head to the side in mock confusion, speaking in his normal tone once again. “I don’t believe I was clear enough. I don’t just need another beer for myself. I need you all to drink another beer with me.” Scott glanced sideways over at Justin, they locked eyes for a moment of silent communication, and Justin spoke up.

  “Hey Ty, I don’t mean to be a dick or anything. I know you’re going through a lot today, but I’ve gotta work tomorrow afternoon, and I don’t really wanna be too hungover to go in.” Tyler saw through the excuse and laid on a thick dose of sarcasm.

  “Yeah...I’m sorry guys. You don’t have to get drunk with me, it’s not like my whole life was just turned upside-down. I would feel terrible if you weren’t at 100% tomorrow afternoon when you go to WORK at your JOB.” The attitude was thick enough to cut with a knife, and was simmering on a pool of anger. Scott looked over at Justin who had a look of confusion on his face. He had never seen Tyler so direct with his anger before. Scott let out a sigh and pulled out three additional beers and tossed two of them over to Chris and Justin.

  All 4 friends now had a beer in each hand, setting one down only to enjoy the brats as they pulled them off the grill. The shadows grew longer, as the pile of empty cans grew larger. The overall quality of conversation was slipping, Tyler’s words slurring slightly more than his friends.

  “Justin....I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you, man...Beth is such a lucky girl. I mean, I know she looks like a barbie doll...in a good way, but she’s still purty damn lucky to have you...Like...four leaf clover lucky.” Scott recognized this, Tyler had hit supergratification. The level of drunkenness where you feel obligated to point out just how great everyone around you is, and how grateful you are to have them in your life.

  “What do you mean ‘in a good way’?” Justin retorted, a smirk on his face, accented by a glint in his soft green eyes.

  “You know...she’s not like, plastic. But she is...like...a bombshell. I mean like..wow... she is definitely one of my favorite people to look at.” Tyler’s hazel eyes were fully glazed over, the vacant look of a person whose brain is a full second of processing time behind what his senses were taking in. Scott and Chris sat and listened to this stream, content to simply enjoy the buzz from the beer and the genuinely stupid conversation.

  “...wait...are you saying that you’ve spank-banked my girlfriend?” Justin paused for dramatic effect. “I’m not sure if I should smack you or be honored...”

  Chris was chuckling at the comment when he was suddenly caught off guard. Tyler’s delayed stare suddenly sharpened, and in a moment he flicked both of the beer cans he held at Chris’s chest. With a beer can in each hand himself, Chris was unable to block the flying cans, and in the moment of surprise his reflexes caused him to flip his chair backwards. Of course this didn’t happen quickly enough, and the empty cans softly bounced off of Chris as his chair tipped backwards into the grass.

  “While you’re down there...wanna grab me a couple more?” Tyler was now standing over him, smiling. Still laying on his back, Chris reached up over his head and fumbled blindly in the cooler.

  “Uh oh....looks like the party’s over. We’re all out.” Chris said, tipping the cooler over to prove it was empty. Scott and Justin let out silent sighs of relief, until Tyler responded to Chris’s statement.

  “Guess that just means it’s time to kick things up a notch.”

  Scott had been working on his Masters Degree in Civil Engineering, but even he would admit, when it came to coming up with truly creative solutions to problems, Chris was the genius of the group.

  Once, when they had all gone on a camping trip together, nobody had remembered to bring a lighter to start the campfire with. Chris somehow got it started with an old AA battery, a pair of headphones and two shots of Bacardi 151 (one of which he had drank).

  It was this creativity that led to the situation that the group was in now. All four friends were in Justin’s kitchen. Tyler and Scott had their hands down flat on the floor, with their feet being held up by Chris and Justin, in what has long been called the ‘wheelbarrow position.’

  “Just to be clear, we race into the living room, around the coffee table, up the hallway and into the bedroom. In the bedroom, all wheely-racers take a shot of tequila...” Chris was calmly explaining the rules when Scott chimed in, from his inverted position.r />
  “Except me, because Tequila makes me puke, I’m taking a shot and a half of rum.”

  “Yes, except Scott, whose sensitive Polish disposition requires him to stay away from anything of Mexican descent.” Chris responded, a poke at two separate stories Scott had drunkenly revealed to him over their time as roommates.

  One story involving chimichangas and what could only be described as a weekend of emotionally traumatizing diarrhea. The other involving a Hispanic midget prostitute, or dwarf hooker (While telling the story, Scott had used the terms interchangeably) who had attempted to extort a modest sum of money out of him for sexual acts that did not happen (according to Scott’s partial memory of the night’s events).

  Chris continued, remembering the tiny powerful fists that Scott had described. “After the shots, we trade roles, Tyler takes up my feet and Justin takes up Scott’s. We race back through the hallway, around the coffee table and back into the kitchen, where we all have to send Tyler’s ex-girlfriend a nonsense pick-up line. Winner is decided by speed. Bonus winner is decided by whomever she responds to first.”

  Describing the exact events of the next six minutes is unnecessary, as anyone who has seen drunk adult men participate in a complex competitive physical activity can imagine the grace, poise and total lack of injury that is expected in such an event. Of course it ended with Emily, Tyler’s most recent ex-girlfriend, receiving the following text messages.

  Hay, do u like me? Check yes or no.

  Sweet mamma-jamma, I’m gonna court you so hard, your grandparents will be asking when we gonna jump the broom.

  Mine dearest, I long for the moment when we can once again make wonderous meeting with our nether regions.

  Hey I’m responding to the craigslist ad. When does the gangbang start?

  There was no bonus winner, as she did not respond to any of the messages.

  The rest of the evening went according to plan. The group of young friends became shamefully intoxicated and continued to make increasingly poor decisions, which led to additional shame and intoxication. The only incident that was out of the ordinary was the thirty three minutes when Beth came home at 11:15pm.