The Centennial Patron

I don’t drink to remember or forget, I drink to drink. I drink alone and I drink often. It’s how I sleep, it’s how I deal. I’m good at it too. I can drink while others die, while others party, while others live. I am a drunk for all seasons. I’ve been such a thing since my 25th birthday some hundred years ago. It’s just what I do.

Time is of course relative and my drunk years may not match the rotation of the Earth. I do know that between the last call and first scotch, it all moves quickly. Then after I get my first scotch everything slows back down. Why the world is capable of being so easily dilated is a question for physicists and I, a drunk am barely able to understand. It’s completely impossible for me to explain.

I work my ass off in the brief time between drinks and I expect to be served promptly as I have been a patron here since Hector was a pup. Why I remember drinking here the very night they tore down the wall. No one thought they would, not even the Greeks. I remember looking up at the television and realizing I was watching history right then and there.

Sadly, even my patronage has it limits, I can’t abide by this Sunday silliness you insist on propagating. I have taken my scotch and left you with the proper change. I will pay for the window in installments.


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