On a Bender

It wasn't that I didn't take my wife seriously, it's just that she says a lot of things. She's always telling me that she's going to leave me or go to her mother's or some other goddamn thing. She wines, she complains, and she's always claiming she's gonna do something I'll regret.

Well, I have to give it to her, the old bag finally followed through. Tonight, I get home expecting another arguement, but all I found was a note. The closets were cleaned out, some furniture was gone, along with just about anything that would indicate a woman ever lived in my apartment.

I didn't have to read the note. I knew what it was gonna say.

So it was down to the 'ol watering hole for me. Joe's pad. It was one a fashionable club at sometime in it's history, maybe the 20's, maybe the 50's. It was hard to tell. Nowadays, it was just a respectable, private place to let your troubles melt away. I got there a little earlier than usual, just before the regulars show up. Well, I guess I'm a regular, but you know what I mean. Joe was behind the bar tonight, mixing up a small drum of some sorta fancy-pants drink. My needs were much simpler.

"Whiskey" I said to Joe as a sat at the mostly empty bar.

"Yer in early, tonight, ain't ya, Charley?" Joe said back. "Wife kick you outta the house?"

Apparently, the look in my eyes said something about my condition.

"Hey, you okay, Charley?"

"Where's the whiskey, Joe?" Joe was takin' his time, now wasn't he?

"Comin' up." Joe reached under the counter for a bottle and glass. He set it down in front of me, and waited. His bartender instincts telling him that my refill wasn't going to be long in waiting.

I tok it down in one gulp. Joe just set the bottle down for me and went on back to mixing. What would I do without ya, Joe?

It wasn't an hour two before the regulars were all assembled. There was 'Mike', um I think 'Earl', and um... Juh... J-something. There was... the guy who... he talked with an accent. Oh hell, the names aren't important. They were my crowd, and it was my bar. It don't get no better than this.

I toasted my new bachelorhood. I toasted my financial freedom. I toasted the napkin. I toasted the toast. And then I got down to some serious drinking.

---

The next thing I knew, I was back at my place. I was still dressed, asleep on top of my bed. A lampshade was on my head, and three discarded martini glasses were lying next to me. When I found my way to the front door, it was swung open wide. I musta had one hell of a night. I checked my watch, and it read 2:30. The light outside indicated it was daylight. I checked another clock, and sure enough it was 2:30 in the afternoon. Whew. One hell of a night.

When I got back, I found Joe's Pad even emptier than normal, but I guess that was on account of it not opening just yet.

"You look like crap, Charley." Joe says to me - like it was news. "Didja make it home okay? You were pretty far gone, you know."

"Yeh." I said. "Do you got anything for the freakin' mother of all headaches?"

Joe checked under his counter again. "My sure fire hangover cure, Charley. It'll fix you up as good as new." A small handfull of pills were dumped onto the counter in front of me. "Vitamins. High-potency."

I looked at him with doubt.

Joe put his hand on his chest. "Honest, Charley! Give 'em a shot. See if I'm lyin'."

So I swallowed one down, and God help me, the headache was gone. Just like that.

"What'd I tell ya?" Joe says. "Keep those, I've got plenty."

"Yeah. Thanks Joe. Say, you outta patent these little miracle workers."

Joe produced a bottle of whiskey and a glass for me. He then went down to the other end of the counter to fill up some pretzel bowls or something. "Yeah. I'll do that, Charley."

Hey, if he can't see a money-making opportunity, it's not my problem. As I'm pourin' my drink, I look around. It sure is empty. Just a couple of losers who look like they slept in their clothes. Pretty depressing. I bet they're all alcholoics or something.

That's what my wife was always accusin' me of being. An alcoholic. Hey, if she had my worries, she'd be drinikin' too. And hell, it wasn't like she was any beauty queen. If she hadn't put on all that weight, maybe I wouldn't have the time to drink, you know hat I'm saying?

But now I guess, I've got my pick of the litter. Charley's back in town, and looking for a little action. Yes sir. I look around again, but the place is still the same. Just a few winos. "Hey Joe, you know what this place neeeds?" I say.

"What's that, Charley?"

"Women. You could get some real crowds in here if you just had a few chicks come in every night."

"Workin' on it, Charley. Hey, you need another bottle?" He asked.

I look at what I've got, and it's all gone. Where did it all go? "Yeah. Thanks, Joe."

---

Next thing I know, I'm back home again, lying on my couch. Everything keeps trying to lean over to the side and fall off the edge of the Earth. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels is on my chest, and I seem to be wearing a fireman's hat. My head feels split down the center, like somebody had landed a 747 on it - and left the engines running.

I remeber about Joe's pills, and check my pokcet. They're almost all gone. I musta used 'em up or somethging. So I go and take the last one. These things will change the world, I tell you. My headache was gone instantly. But that also brought my senses back. The first thing was the smell. And it was me. I reeked of alcohol and sweat. So the first thing I did - after removing a coat I dont think I owned - was take a shower. It felt like I hadn't had one for days. I had to actually scrub stuff offa me. And I swear that the hair is falling off my arms too. Criminy.

So I look at the answering machine, and it's got forty messgaes on it. Messages from guys at the office, and bill collectors. They're all pretty angry sounding. One though, was asking me where I was, and why hadn't I been into work? Well, it was the weekend, numbnuts. that's why.

But when I checked my front door for the paper I got a bad shock. It wasn't Sunday. It was Wednesday. I had been on some kind of world-class bender for four whole days.

Yeah, well I don't have to say what came next. I was fired. Great. The job was shit, but at least it paid the bills. Most of them, at least.

Oh man. I don't beleive it, but I'm actually crying. I guess it's a lot to deal with, losing the wife and job in a few days. Whatever the stupid reasons, I just bawled like a baby. Man alive, this was no good for me.

So I got myself dressed. There wasn't any point in wearing a suit & tie anymore, so it was jeans and a sweatshirt. God they felt good. I guess I had been working too long. Maybe I wasn't going to miss wearing the suit every damn day. I probably needed this down time.

After a few hours of old crappy movies, the phone rang. I didn't bother to pick it up. It was a recptionist for some sort of medical clinic. Probably advertising or something. They said I had an appointment and just wanted to "remind" me of it.

Then they called again. This time they said I was late, but they would hold my appointment for another hour. On the off chance that they weren't trying to scam me, I checked my calendar. And yeah, wouldn't you know it, I've got it written down there. Or at least someone wrote it there - it doesn't look like my handwriting. But whatever the reason, I'm probably gonna get billed for this anyway, so I better go.

The clinic, as it turns out is right next to Joe's Pad. Convenient for me, as I was just gonna come down here later anyway. The building was a bit run-dowm. It kinda looked like a warehouse more than something medical. But inside, it was clean and white, like you'd expect.

The receptionist handed my the usual forms and junk, then had me go right in to see a doctor. In a small white room, a tall guy with white hair and a thick mustace comes in and introduces himself. He's the doctor, I guess, and his name was Raymond.

"But just call me Red." He drew his fingers through his colorless hair. "At least it used to be a nickname before father time caught up with me."

Everybody's got a lame joke to introduce themselves, don't they? "Yeah. Good to meet you, Red." I said. "Look, I don't want to sound funny or nothing, but why exactly am I here?"

The doc checks his clipboard and finds what he's looking for. "You're here to fix your abnormal hormone secretion levels"

Huh? My whatchamahoozits? "My what now?" I asked.

"You wanted to have your testosterone levels minimized." He said.

I thought about that for a minute, and I couldn't even recall making this appointment. And I had no idea what this guy was even talking about. This was one strange puzzle.

"You know Joe, don't you?" Red said. "From Joe's Pad?"

Hey, that rang a bell. "Yeah. Joe's my pal."

"Yeah. We go way back, me and Joe. He said that he had a friend coming in for this." The doctor smiled. "That must be you."

"Must be." I said. Well, if this guy knew Joe, than it must be all right. "So, what do I need to do?"

The doctor got up get some stuff from a drawer. "Just take your clothes off and lie on the table. It'll be a little incision around your abdomen."

What? "You're gonna cut me open?" I stood up. There was something fishy going on here. But before I could do anything there's a prick in my arm.

---

I woke up back on my couch again. And the head was really giving me trouble now. It hurt to even think. To even think about thinking. I checked my pockets for those pills Joe gave me, and I found a whole bunch of them. Thank God.

Once the headache was gone, I checked things out. Last time this happened, I was out for days. I went to get the paper, and sure enough it was Monday already. Jesus Christ. What was that? Four? Five days lost?

No sense in getting all bent out of shape over it. What's done is done. Last thing I remember, I was on my way down to Joe's Pad. I guess whatever happened after that will come back to me. And again, I sure stink. And I itch. I itch like I was smothered jelly and dropped on an anthill.

Once I got out of the shower I decided I'd better look in the mirror. God knows what this kind of lifestyle is doing to me. Yeah. Just as I suspected. I look like hell. The bags under my eyes and the five days of beard growth weren't my best look.

Once I got that squared away, it was back to the couch and some TV. But it wasn't long before I had to get another shirt. Something was screwy with the one I was wearing. I felt like it had been made of sandpaper, rubbing me raw on the 'ol nips there. And they had swollen up something awful. They had been bothering me a lot lately. I found an old fleece that felt loads better. Too much starch, probably.

Once the soaps were over, I got myself ready to go down to Joe's. I had to tighten the belt up a few notches when I got my pants on. It looked like I had lost some weight. This drinkin' is probably doing something awful like disolving the guts in my body or something. I'm still walking though, so it can't be all that bad.

"Hey, Charley!" Joe said, when I arrived. "I didn't think I'd see you for a while after what happened here last night."

"Yeah." Was all I could say. I figure if it was something bad, Joe's would have kicked me out already. "You know me."

"That's my Charley." Joe said, and I think he was laughing. "The usual?" He asked.

"Yeah." I took my seat and Joe poured me a vodka and tonic. "So uh, last night..."

"Ho boy - last night, I mean... What can you say? It was just a wild time!" Joe stuck the twist on the rim. "If I hadn't seen it all, I wouldn't have beleived it!"

I sipped my drink a little. As curious as I was, I wasn't going to ask about anything specific. After all, I don't want anyone think I can't handle my alcohol.

Not five minutes had passed before this guy in a white lab coat comes in. He's kinda tall and kinda old, with white hair. He takes a look around, and sees that I'm the only person here, so he decides to sit down right next to me. Figures.

"Hey, Red." Joe says to him. I guess he's a regular too. "What'll ya have?"

"No time to stay, Joe. Just looking for my patient here." The guy says, looking at me. "You ready, Charley?"

Now I don't know what's going on here, but I'm pretty sure I'd never seen this guy before. and when somebody comes into my bar and tells me to leave, he'd had better be playing a joke on me or certifably insane. Anything in between, and I'm gonna give you a five finger sandwich.

"Joe, you know this guy?" I ask.

"C'mon, Charley. That's the doc. From the clinic next door. Don't you remember?" Joe said. He was polishing a glass like bartenders do when they're pretending to not be listening. "Last night? You know. You made the appointment."

I look this guy over. Maybe he was a little familiar. Yeah. It was just on the fringe of my fuzzy memory. "What kind of appointment?"

The doctor smiled. "For your suregry."

"Surgery?" I said. "I'm not getting any surgery!"

"Look, Charley, you've laready had your fun. You won the bet, fair and square, and now you get your surgery."

"I won a bet?" This was all news to me. "Oh. Yeah. Sure." I caught myself. "But I was just joking, doc. You don't need to..."

"You said you'd been having some trouble with your chest." The doctor guy said. And well, that was true. So if he knew that, then maybe there was some truth behind it. "I was going to see what we could do to fix that problem."

"So refresh my memory. What kind of surgery are we talking about?" I'm desperate here. Just a clue, guys.

"He doesn't remember." Joe said.

The doc get a stupid look on his face. "You know, I don't think he does."

"Hey!" I had to stop this. "Of course I remember. It was for the problem I'm having with my chest."

"Well there you are. See, he remembers, Joe." The doc says. "Are you ready to go?"

"Just lemme finish this drink."

---

The next thing I remember is waking up on my floor, a bottle of vodka in one hand and my keys in the other. A beam of light coming through my open door knocked me awake. Once I had negotiated with the ground to let me stand on it, I slammed the damned door shut.

This time, It was the worst of all. I felt battered and bruised. Like the entire American fleet of UPS trucks had run me over three or four times. My mouth was an ashtray and my head had a beehive hiding in it somewhere. One of Joe's miracle pills and I was back in reality again.

I found the bathroom where I quickly vomited up my tonsils, and gave myself a long shower. Jesus freakin' Christ, my breasts were sore. They seemed swollen, too. I hope I don't need to start gettin' new bras. I hate shopping for those things.

I took a leak and found the 'ol bearded oyster sore. Hopefully, that won't a story I'll hear about later. Took my birth control pills to make sure. Pain in the ass. But then that's the fun of having a vagina, isn't it?

My face in the mirror didn't look like it had taken too much damage. It looked sorta swollen as well, but the puffy lips and bedroom eyes looked kinda nice. Maybe that'll stick around. A guy can dream, can't he? A lot of people would kill for that, and I get from sleeping on my face. After I took another extended marathon leak, I got my hair out of my face with a scrunchie and looked for clothes. Sweats would do fine.

It looked like someone else had been in the apartment because some oaf had left his enormous clothes all over the place. Whoever this guy was, he was huge. I could fit both of my legs inide just one of his pant legs. Some guys just let themselves go, I suppose. Myself, I was in pretty good shape. The fast life keeps the pounds off of my 36-20-35 figure. I can't actually remember the last time I ate solid food.

I reluctantly checked the paper, and found that this time, I had lost almost a month. My brain flipped inside my skull when I figured that out. It had been at least 23 days since I last remember what day it was. Since then it was one long blackout. My life was goin' ta hell in a flaming handbasket. Did I have bills paid? Rent? There was a shitload of stuff to think about and a ton of problems to worry about.

"Hey Charlie!" Joe said, with his usual good humor.

"Hey, Joe. Gimme the usual." I said. I walked over to my stool, but for some reason I was having a hard time keeping my balance. Just simple walking was tough. It felt like I was in someone else's body. Maybe it was an inner ear thing.

"Sure thing, pal." Joe dips a glass in salt and serves up my margarita. "You're lookin' better."

I toop a sip. "What did I look like before?"

"I didn't mean it that way." Joe said through a devilish smile that made me feel a little sick...

Continued at TGStories.com