IP: 68.38.112.153
Posted on June 18, 2010 at 07:41:11 AM by a e r o n
 What the FUCK. Where the fuck is my alcohol? I stifled a groan, I need my booze! WHY AM I NOT INTOXICATED. Fuck me, come on. Is there not an ounce of liquor in sight? My head hurt, what? I need alcohol to survive, or else my neurons don’t . . . do neuron-y shit. Like send messages to my brain. Yes I have a brain, no the alcohol did not hurt it. Alcohol is my friend, better than the lot of you, it would never stab me in the back by killing me. Duh. It’s reliable, as in I can rely on it to get my ass drunk. Oh being drunk, what a wonderful feeling. Who the fuck is this guy? I remember vaguely offering and asking him if he needed help. Where the fuck was I when I said that? I certainly do not help people, and I certainly don’t offer it for free. Where is the gain in that? I do not do good things; please do not mistake me for a do-gooder. Fuck do-gooders. His hand touched mine, and I distantly recollected that I put my hand on him. Weird, why was I touching a stranger? He jerked his hand back though, as if I burned him. What the hell is wrong with him? My throat still felt dry from the lack of water, all I need is the burn of alcohol to cure it. Didn’t I have a bag here somewhere? The raft I was on! It had to have my bag, my bag with my precious drugs and my precious alcohol. He reached out towards my face but I was already back tracking with my mind, trying to find where I had that bottle of sweet, delectable, firey liquid. Blake? Oh, Blake was his name. That’s kind of cute, I looked at him closer, he looked to be fighting something, but it was past me, and over my head. I felt almost like I had my head bashed in, I could barely remember anything—but I need my alcohol. It will cure me, I promise. “Blake, dear, one second,” my raspy voice held an edge of suspense, as I backed away, turned. I felt a need, a want, to stay with him and curl up close into his body. Fuck! ”’Scuse me a second”, my words faded as I started to run. I darted across the land, pushing my silky, but tangled, hair out of my face as I found the raft and my bag. Oh the liquor! I was in love with the stuff, I pushed the bottle to my lips after uncapping it, let the liquid blaze against my throat, it burned so good. I took several gulps, enough to get any tiny-framed person drunk. My blood heated up, veins burning against my skin. I felt my face blush, and I walked towards Blake with a purpose. Bottle of rum in hand, I looked at him closely, but I could already feel the alcohol manipulating my brain, teaching it new ways to find a man sexy. Like his smile. I never really looked at a persons mouth before—it was so cute! “Blake,” I slurred, “you have a cute mouth.” I paused a second before adding: ”Show me what you can do with that mouth.” The rasp from my voice had been satisfied by my alcohol, I felt more seductive without sounding like a man. I could feel the lust rising in me, flooding through my every cell. I thought it was the alcohol, no one had alerted me to this fourth curse. I stared at Blake, my gaze finally ending up at his eyes. They held something there, something primal, carnal. He looked hungry, but not for food. I laughed, the sound sweet to my ears, and lifted the bottle to my lips again, “Did I tell you my name is Aeron? Well, it is.” I laughed again, laughing just to hear myself laugh. Oh, alcohol, will you marry me? I poured more alcohol down my throat as I looked at him with elevator eyes. Comprehension of thought was beyond me, I only knew what I wanted, and the more and more I looked at this man, I wanted him. I thought I should let him know that, but the words were too afraid to form on my tongue, so instead, I moved closer to him, capping the bottle and setting it cautiously, out of harms way, in the grass. I needed to keep my precious alcohol safe, as you know. “Blake. . . “ his name sounded so beautiful when I said it. I wanted to hear it again, “Blake, Blake, Blake.” I was chanting now, laughing joyously after saying his name. |