The Bachelor: Part I

I woke up to the sounds of laughter and glass breaking.  My alarm clock read 3:33 as I found my robe.  The air in the hall was warm and the lights were on.  I thought I had turned them off before going to bed.  I walked slowly down the hall and began to hear conversation wafting from the kitchen.  I stepped out into it.  Some old general and two young ladies were sitting at my counter, helping themselves to my stock of whisky, wine, and imported brew.  

They might have looked at me briefly but mostly they carried on drinking and laughing together.  My voice sleep deep, I tried to ask them what the fuck they were doing.  When I spoke they stopped and looked at me concernedly.  The man got up, his fingers screwing with his handlebar mustache.  The girls giggled at the air in front of them.  I looked down at my armadillo slippers.  The general’s medals rang as he started walking.  He reached me across the room where I stood and put a heavy hand on my shoulder.  His breath smoked as he led me towards my liquor cabinet.  He pulled out a glass and placed in it ice, father’s twelve-year-old scotch (acquired post-mortem), and some tonic water.  He handed the glass to me with a satisfied smile.  

No one had spoken a word since I walked in.  I was pissed.  But I still took a needed sip.  This must have pleased him because he laughed from his belly and so did the girls (though not from theirs.)  He dropped his hand back on my shoulder and led me back to where they sat.  I situated myself across from the ladies and was finding it very hard to complain.  I took another sip and broke a weak smile.  My microwave read 3:37.