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Andy Chunn Nov 2022
When Santa returned from his trippin’
A bottle of *** he was nippin’
His wife had a brew
And after a few
The elves caught them both skinny dippin’
You have to watch that guy!
Anais Vionet Aug 2022
The ***, I thought. Pirates drink ***, I decided, because then the world rocks like a boat. My foot was tingling, like it was asleep, but I was just sitting on it, which seemed funny.

I managed to free my foot and the whole world seemed more comfortable.
Then a spider was on my face!
I swatted at it, but it was just my hair, which I managed, with dizzying effort, to tuck behind my ear.

Everett, slid off the couch, in front of me, like an alligator off a sand bank. I hadn’t noticed him before. He worked his way over next to me, on all fours, like a lazy, wobbly panther.

“Everett,” I said, as if to establish the fact that that blurry shape was indeed Everett.
“ANN-Ais,” he replied, and chuckled like we’d exchanged punchlines. He was next to me now.
“You’re very,” he said, as if struggling for the next word, “PRetty,” he said, petting my arm like a cat.

Then, still on all fours, he lifted one hand and touched a finger to my right breast, as if it were a sleeping thing he was trying to wake. I watched him, detachedly. He looked distorted, like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. His backside slumped down, like a lion that was full and ready to nap, and he rebalanced himself on his left elbow and licking his lips reached over again.

I gently, preemptively, pushed his reaching hand away, “Stop thAT,” I said, “yourrrrrr drrUNK.”
“YOU’RE, are TOO!” He said, in sloppy accusation, which made me laugh and then him too.

“Leave me alone,” I managed to say, pretty clearly. Prompting Everett to frown and give me a jerky, dismissive wave as he, the proud panther, began to look for other prey.

I looked around and saw my purse, on the table next to the chair that was holding me up. The strap was just within reach so I yanked on it and my purse thumped roughly onto the carpet next to me. My glass, which was next to it, threatened to tip over but settled itself upright.

I fished out my phone, while fighting a curtain of my hair that had decided to attack me when I reached for my purse. “Hey, Siri,” I slurred, “callllll CHarles.”
It rang once. “Yep,” he said.
“Come get me pleaZ,” I said, trying to get my hair and tongue separated.

Two minutes later Charles was there. He held out his hand, which I managed to take while somehow shouldering my purse. He pulled me to an unsteady stance, shook his head and scooped me, effortlessly, into a cradle carry. “Do you have everything?” He asked.

I nodded and said, “Thank you for inviting me, EVVVV!” While waving wildly as we left.
Once outside, he said, “14-year old's do NOT drink!” With a real edge in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in a tone of tired melancholia. I couldn’t help resting my face on his warm chest as he carried me to our house just next door to Everett’s.
“You’re GROUNDED for a MONTH.” He said in a growl.
Somehow, I managed to make it upstairs and into bed without encountering my parents.

In the morning, while I was busy feeling like death, Charles told my parents, “She’s grounded for a month.” I was. They didn’t ask why, and he didn’t offer to say.

I love Charles.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Melancholia: a sad tone or quality.
Anais Vionet Feb 2022
Debilitating laughter
at the hands of a master
a ***** minded *******
who knows what he’s after

The ever subtle asker
he caresses and flatters
his clever patter shatters
cares that should matter.

Finally, we moved to extract her
the wobbling girl from Nebraska
from a drunken fraternal disaster
and the junior poised to shaft her

Uhh, sorry to interrupt
Anna, pick her up her stuff
We gotta go home ***, get up
Hey bud, touch ME and you’re ******.

***, you’ve had too much ***
when tomorrow comes
if you still want to slum
you can still bed the ***

We’re waiting for an Uber
Are you starting to sober?
No babe, you didn’t *****-up
Ughh, yep, she threw up.
Sam Sep 2020
i'm drunk
  on her smile
    and the moonlight
      and the ***
*** is a blood thinner
Charlotte Ivy Nov 2019
Yo ** ** and a bottle of ***, is it me or the alcohol that makes you ***?
Mitch Prax Nov 2019
I don't know how much
you had to drink but I know
you were completely out of your senses.
I couldn't quite make out the words,
but I guess even then,
it felt good to hear some affection.
Oh, how terse the mind is deceived
so easily by the false mask
of a bottle of ***.
else Oct 2019
I could still taste the whiskey
In my mouth, ***-rimmed,
The tang of coke, light gin,
Better than mint,
As my eyes turned three,
Balance broke, but
My mind stayed intact,
So I took my calculator,
Solved calculus in front of you,
Pi r square h, volume of the drink--
Look, Chandrasekhar, Volkoff--
My words are slurred yet clearer
Than ***** neat, more fluent
Than *** slipping in like silk
Into my throat, the blooming
Sweet heat lingers, my
Feet numb, as I walked,
Arm slung over your shoulder,
Laughed, fear clear, stir sears,
I'm not sorry, I'm free, in glee
With you, while the mild aftertaste
Remains, dissipates late, my mate,
Our best most happiest date...

Oh boy.
I may just forget much.
But I won't forget
That you still owe me twenty point four seven five dollars.
*** what was I doing last night hahahh
Sudipta Maity Feb 2019
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****.
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But,  it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
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