D'Artagnon Posted October 29, 2018 Report Share Posted October 29, 2018 I'm not really sure where this is going. I've had this idea for a while now, about an adult who gets to go back to childhood with his knowledge of his adult life intact. I've seen several stories like this, but thought of a few angles I would like to explore. See what you think of this opening. It doesn't fit in with my Canterbury stories at all, so it's pretty much a stand alone sort of idea. I'll expand upon it little by little as it takes shape in my mind more. If people like it, I'll see about continuing it. “You know, you are a total failure as an adult,” the man who sidled up to me at the bar said. He quickly ordered a drink while removing his coat. He’d caught me in mid sip, just about to swallow down the last of my double bourbon and ask for another. I looked over to him, my eyes blurry with all the alcohol I’d previously poured down my throat. My skin felt itchy and it was like my stubble kept trying to roll around on my face. Three days without a shave and I didn’t care if I went thirty more. “Comfy in there?” the guy asked. I managed to focus my eyes enough to make him out. Strong face, almost classical, like a Greek statue. No beard on him. Hair the color of warm wheat in a sunny field. Couldn’t make out his eye color in the dim light of this smoky hole in the wall. His suit was impeccable. Gunmetal gray, pin striped, tailored to his narrow waist and broad shoulders. Power tie that looked fresh from the dry cleaners. Just like the kind my former boss would wear once, throw away and have twenty more waiting in his walk in closet, no doubt bigger than my entire flea-bitten apartment. Same just out of college age as my last boss, too. The prick. “In where?” I asked, tilting the shot glass around by my fingertips. “In the bottle, sir,” he deadpanned, reaching for the glass offered him. He turned and leaned back against the bar with his wine glass in his hand, elbows up on the bar. “Seems you are determined to either climb into the bottle with the booze or let the booze pickle you from the inside out.” “Says the guy who ordered a glass of merlot,” I countered, draining my cup. The amber liquid should have burned going down, but by this point in my drunk, I was feeling the warmth only. And thankfully precious little else. “Moderation is the key to enjoying the complexities and mysteries of alcohol,” he replied, taking a sip. “But I see you choose to seek wisdom at the palace of excess.” “Under it, if possible.” I signaled to the bartender, who held up a finger as he spoke with one of his waitresses. “What business is it of yours?” “Funny you should ask,” he said, rubbing a finger around the inside of his wine glass. The dark liquid followed, making a soft ringing sound as his finger rubbed hard on the lip. The tone would have been pleasant if it wasn’t leaning on my own descent to blissful unconsciousness. “Would you stop that?” I asked. He pulled the finger out of the glass and brought it to his lips. He inserted the finger and slurped the rich, purple liquid off. “Indeed. Stopping. That’s what I’m here for,” he responded. “Just finish your drink and let me finish mine, okay, buddy?” “Buddy! Oh yes, I quite like that. Not the same as my real name, of course, but the familiarity of it! Oh, the hint of such close and intimate friendship! Yes, that will do wonderfully. I thank you,” he beamed. “Whatever,” I said, raising my hand towards the barkeep again. “Anyhow,” my new buddy said, turning dramatically, “To the matter of stopping. And your absolute abject failure as an adult.” He was not only starting to get on my nerves, but now was being rude in suggesting my flaws were evident. Guy was a total stranger to me. And while I wasn’t above picking up a stranger in a gay bar like this, or starting a fight with one, I just didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Besides, he sounded either entirely too camp to be real or just plain crazy. Neither of which are appealing to me in either a fuck or a fight. “Ya know, Buddy, you’re really beginning to piss me off. I had a good depression going here and you’re starting to turn it into an aggression. Piss off.” “Maybe later. Actually, I’ve been sent here to stop you.” “Ain’t happening. Once they cut me off here, I intend to take one home and drown in the comfort of my own rented shithole.” “Deplorable. But, you have been a waste of an adulthood, so I guess that’s to be expected.” “What the fuck do you know?” I shouted, or tried to, getting more and more irritated at this guy by the moment. “Well, I know that your name is Chadwick Parisse, aged 48, that you are presently unemployed because your former boss didn’t like you drinking at work. You have been a mostly closeted gay man for most of your life, only coming out three years ago after your father’s suicide. Your ex-wife completely emasculated you when she found you in bed with that horrible leather daddy. Your failed marriage has left you destitute, bereft of any companionship from your life before, absent from your teenage daughter’s life and basically renounced by your son as a quote-unquote degenerate freak. You recently acquired a legal status of Driving Under the Influence and a period of probation, which your currently highly intoxicated state is in direct violation of, by the way. Oh, and your car has been repossessed for failure to make payments in a timely manner.” I pushed back from the bar, about ready to clobber this effete, bothersome, nosy, know-it-all until his dumb voice just stopped talking. It was like he knew at least eighty percent of my failures and was laying them out, casually, just to piss me off. I was in just the mood to do some damage, to spread the hurt around to someone other than me. “I am here to make all of that stop,” he said, as I rounded to face him. That brought me up short. Even staring over my one extended fist, I wasn’t sure if I was seeing him, or two of him, maybe three of him. I shook my head to clear my eyes some, but that only made me dizzy. “The fuck you say?” “Yes. Indeed. I do say fuck.” “Huh?” “I am here to offer you a way out of your failed adulthood. One that ends all these legal and financial woes, allows you to explore the sexuality you have desperately craved since childhood with acceptance and emotional support, and grant you the chance to undo all the horrendous errors that led you to be the human waste material you have grown to become.” “Fuck you!” I shouted and lunged for him. He simply stood up from his leaning position on the bar and stepped back, allowing me to fall flat on my face. From there, he didn’t move, even as I tried to regain my feet. The bourbon had robbed me of fine motor control, at this point, so balance and stability were not in my pockets. William King and Al Norris 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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