Mr. Kosmos ordered another drink at the bar. The thought of his mother would not leave his mind. The drunker he got, the more guilty he felt. Where was she? Was she alright? Why did she disappear like that?
He was such a bad son for leaving her out there and sitting here in this timeline and drinking himself into a stupor.
“Hey, barkeep. I think I am about done here. But I'll have one for the road. Give me your best.”
The barkeep was confused as to why he kept serving this small, overweight, balding football of a man. But the man wanted the best, so he was going to give him the best.
“We've got a Shark-Vod. It's a shot of vodka distilled from shark teeth and contains a small shark swimming in the glass.”
“Shark-vod? Sounds perfect for the road. Be a good man and pour me one.”
He placed the black card on the table again.
The drink was in front of him like a magic trick. He took a look at the tiny shark swimming in the drink. The fin making circles and whorls in the liquid. Hunting the dream of some invisible prey. But who was the hunter here, really?
He gulped down the vodka. The tiny shark crunched in his teeth and the salty taste of shark blood filled his mouth.
He shot off a salute to the bartender and got up from the bar stool.
He was such a bad son for leaving her out there and sitting here in this timeline and drinking himself into a stupor.
“Hey, barkeep. I think I am about done here. But I'll have one for the road. Give me your best.”
The barkeep was confused as to why he kept serving this small, overweight, balding football of a man. But the man wanted the best, so he was going to give him the best.
“We've got a Shark-Vod. It's a shot of vodka distilled from shark teeth and contains a small shark swimming in the glass.”
“Shark-vod? Sounds perfect for the road. Be a good man and pour me one.”
He placed the black card on the table again.
The drink was in front of him like a magic trick. He took a look at the tiny shark swimming in the drink. The fin making circles and whorls in the liquid. Hunting the dream of some invisible prey. But who was the hunter here, really?
He gulped down the vodka. The tiny shark crunched in his teeth and the salty taste of shark blood filled his mouth.
He shot off a salute to the bartender and got up from the bar stool.
It was time to go back.
It was time to hunt the hunters.
--
Regular updates from now on.
Promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment