A Conversation With A Glass of Gin...

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own damned business, and my glass of gin just had to ask what I was writing. It went as follows:

GIN: "what are you writing?"
ME: "who said wha...?"
GIN: "I asked you what you were writing. Me, down here, in your glass."
ME: "oh you." I take a big drink. "You taste like shit, why?"
GIN: "because you used flat tonic, you fucking moron. Are you going to answer me?"
ME: "sure, fine; yes, yes. I'm writing a poem. What's it to you?"
GIN: "Just curious, is all.' 'You should use a different word there..."

*Can you belive it, the fucking glass of gin had the nerve to tell me how to write?

ME: "what the hell do you know about writing?"
GIN: "I am Gin, you know."
ME: "oh, right." I took another drink.
GIN: "So what are you writing about?"
ME: "Misery, or something, I guess."
GIN: "Sounds boring as hell.' 'You don't get out much, do you?"

*All from a fucking glass of gin, could you believe it?

ME: "Gofuckyourself." I finish it off.


...I'm not drinking gin anymore.


for more of my conversations with alcoholic beverages, send requests to: dominickonthetrun@hotmail.com

-C.A.