by Ger Sharkey
It was another cold winter's morning. I stepped out into the cool air. A heavy, grey cloud hung overhead as I climbed into the taxi.
"To the next town please driver."
It only took ten minutes before we rolled up to the small old fashioned pub. I paid the driver and walked in.
"A pint and a whiskey, Ned."
Ned knew me well by then, he nodded and I went and sat at the end of the bar and waited for my tipple. I was the only one there.
It was a dark, woody room and had a strong smell of stale ale. I loved it there, it felt like home.
After a couple of hours and several drinks I walked through the side door and made my way up the street. I turned into the next pub, ordered my drink and sat at the bar. I seemed to spend a lot of my days like that then. . . .
A couple of hours passed, then I was on to the next public house.
Later, I wandered through the smoky atmosphere and stepped out onto the wet pavement; it was dark. I wasn't quite sure where I was anymore, one foot in front of the other, slowly, slowly in the falling rain. I could see a distant light and I made my way towards it. I pushed the heavy, wooden door and steadied myself as I walked through. I stopped and looked around. My eyes were focusing in the light and it took a moment to realise I'd gatecrashed a wake.
It only seemed polite, as I was there, to queue and view the body in the open casket.
"You're next" an old man told me.
I stepped up to look inside. I looked at the new suit and then up to the bloated, waxy face. People never look the same do they? Hardly recognisable. Only the tattoo of the "Star of David" on the back of his hand made me realise that I was swaying over the body of one of my favourite drinking acquaintances. For years we had been frequenting the same pubs and not just in that town.
I moved away from the casket and sat down on a wooden chair nearby. My head fell forward and my eyes closed, my head was spinning inside. I guess I didn't care if I fell from my seat.
I tuned into the conversation of two women sitting nearby - "...stroke caused by drinking, his liver was like lace..."
- I tuned out.
I don't know how long I've been asleep, ten or twenty minutes maybe. I can still hear voices. I open my eyes, stand up and walk to the heavy wooden door. I step out to the cool, wet night. I take a deep breath, jolted awake...
Now...where can I get a drink.....?