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By Mr. Pruffrock Date: 2005 May 23 Comment on this Work [[2005.05.23.16.31.17896]] |
| I sit on a stool at the corner of a bar that I have been to enough that everyone here knows me and I know them. Most of them know me well enough to know where I live because they've taken me home for one reason or another on various occasions. I sit here amongst these people who call me a friend but I fell like a stranger. I look at my beer, a miller lite. A fucking miller lite. I've been drinking miller lite since I was sixteen years old. I started drinking old Milwaukee Lite and when everyone else switched to miller lite so did I. Why can't I drink Pabst Blue Ribbon. Why can't I be that kind of man, the kind of man that drinks a man's beer. Hell my daddy drinks Pabst why can't I be that kind of man. Then I think about where my daddy is right now. Right beside me. Well not right beside me, but sitting in the same kind of bar just in a different neighborhood. Sitting there with all of his friends; telling stories; getting drunk; chasing women; loving life; drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon that someone else bought for him; looking for his next conquest to rub his wife's nose in, to further torture her. "Hey bartender, I think I'll have a Budweiser." |