The Whiskey Monologues

The alcohol crept its way down our throats slowly, calmly. No, the alcohol jumped down our throats eagerly, one drink after another. I burned my insides with straight vodka and chased it with a forty. The lyrics to the song we were listening to didn’t make any sense. They weren’t words, just letters jumbled together to make sounds. I think that was due to my level of intoxication, but I can’t be sure. After a few slurred conversations, several hits on a cheaply loaded joint, and another dose or two of Four Loko, our minds were so blissfully clouded. We were fucked up in such a good way.
  

I was too young to be there, stumbling through the apartment, completely obliterated. We were all technically “too young.” But, that’s the thing. We were too young to notice, too young to care, and all that we knew was which drink settled best in the morning.

Submitted by Deus Ex Machina.

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