New Born Spirit
“Here. Take some before it’s gone.” Don shoved the flask into Greg’s ribs.
“I’m good.” He gently pushed the bottle away and continued walking along Bayshore Boulevard overlooking Hillsborough Bay.
Don held the bottle up and announced, “Everclear… Highly recommended by nine out of ten Neanderthals…” He guffawed and took another swig. “This stuff kicks ass!”
He shook the pint bottle in Bill’s face. The clear liquid danced in the light from street lamps lining the water front. Bill took little notice. He spent his energy staying upright, and keeping up.
He called out, “Hey!”
They looked back.
Don said, “What?”
“Who’s desi… desi…” He paused, overwhelmed at the insurmountable task.
Don moved the bottle back and forth. Bill tried to track it. “Earth to Bill. Greg is designated driver.” He pointed at Bill and himself. “We’re designated drinkers.”
“Good. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Last chance!” Don offered the final draught to his friends. Greg declined. Bill swayed. Don raised it to his lips and leaned back, tapping its bottom, like one urges ketchup. He gulped and gasped in triumph. “Good to the last drop!”
