A amazing tale by a a talented story writer. Please read and enjoy
On Saturday evening, Dubs the boxer and I sat at my kitchen table. Drinking cup after cup of Cherry Pepsi and Hennessy. Buzzing. Blitzed. Bored with life on another mundane harbor night. I poured another glass, half Pepsi and half Hen. Dubs carefully watched the bottle, measuring every drop with his beady eyes. He loved his alcohol more than life. We tried to wrap our loose minds around an activity.
What could two men of the bottle do on a cold, weekend night? With no money. With no juice. No Hollywood hook ups. No rich friends to get us by the hard velvet rope.
It was the two of us in the harbor city, getting drunk with no plans. We sat in my beach bungalow on 22nd Street, thinking of a master plan. Suddenly it struck me and like someone’s malicious, morning breath, it crawled into my mind and spouted…
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