Drink in case of Emergency Read Online Free
Author: Carl Oliver
scrubs top over her head, pulling the towel loose and shaking free her long, platinum blonde hair. He had always loved her hair, it was almost white and contrasted beautifully off of her dark Mediterranean complexion. “I thought you worked twelves the last two days so you would only have a six hour shift today?” Justin said half questioning as he made the bed.
“Yeah...but Jessica called in sick so they needed someone to stay late tonight and I thought I’d volunteer. I could use the money, and Dr. Robertson is working so it should be an easy shift.” Beth replied. Justin was familiar with the names of her coworkers, he actually prided himself on always listening intently when Beth told stories from work. He knew Dr. Robertson was good to work with, and that Jessica was bad. Beth had many highly creative and offensive names she had called Jessica over the last six months. Beth’s creativity was one of the things Justin loved about her.
Justin’s favorite nickname had been the week when Jessica was referred to as “Skeet-ball.” A colorful amalgamation of the words “skeeball”, the popular carnival game where balls are thrown into holes of increasing challenge, and “skeet” which is a slang term for semen commonly used in rap music. It was the most creative way Justin had ever heard to call someone a slut, (i.e. Skeet-ball actually took two guys home last night, can you believe it?).
Justin was pulled from this memory by Beth’s question. “Could you make me some french toast while I dry my hair? Thanks hun.” Without waiting for the reply, she walked out of the room and Justin heard her blow-dryer roar to life.
Justin walked through the hallway of the small one bedroom apartment and into the kitchen. The apartment was the upper level of an old house. The place always reeked of cigarette smoke because of the two women who lived downstairs, but at least it was cheap.
“You feeling a little better, buddy?” Tiger brushed up against Justin’s leg as he opened the refrigerator door.
Justin worked quickly to create breakfast for Beth. Fifteen minutes later he had the French Toast steaming on the table, with warm maple syrup and an ice cold glass of orange juice to wash it down with. Beth quickly walked through the kitchen, a hurried look on her face.
“Oh babe, I changed my mind like ten minutes ago, I’m just going to grab some coffee on the way. I’ll call you later. Don’t forget about the puke in the bathroom.” Beth had already slammed the front door behind her before Justin could reply.
Justin sat at the table with two plates of French toast in front of him, and Tiger meowing around his ankles. Beth’s mind changed faster than her moods. Sighing softly, Justin rose from the table and discarded both plates of French toast into the garbage. “I don’t even like French toast, Tiger. I’d give it to you, but with your luck it would give you diabetes.” Cleaning up the dishes in the sink, he was about to go to the bathroom to begin vomit clean-up, when he heard the quiet rumble of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. Picking it up, he read the message.
‘Just got fired, is 8:30 too early to start binge drinking?’
A slight smile crawled across Justin’s face as he began tapping a response: ‘8:30 is way too early, but it’ll take you 30 minutes to get here. 9:00am is a perfectly acceptable time to start.’
*****
Tyler parked his blue Stratus on the street in front of Justin’s apartment. He had thought about calling his parents or his sister while on the way, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every time he reached for his phone, the weight on his chest got heavier.
Just get through today. Then you can let them know.
Walking up the narrow sidewalk along the side of the
“Yeah...but Jessica called in sick so they needed someone to stay late tonight and I thought I’d volunteer. I could use the money, and Dr. Robertson is working so it should be an easy shift.” Beth replied. Justin was familiar with the names of her coworkers, he actually prided himself on always listening intently when Beth told stories from work. He knew Dr. Robertson was good to work with, and that Jessica was bad. Beth had many highly creative and offensive names she had called Jessica over the last six months. Beth’s creativity was one of the things Justin loved about her.
Justin’s favorite nickname had been the week when Jessica was referred to as “Skeet-ball.” A colorful amalgamation of the words “skeeball”, the popular carnival game where balls are thrown into holes of increasing challenge, and “skeet” which is a slang term for semen commonly used in rap music. It was the most creative way Justin had ever heard to call someone a slut, (i.e. Skeet-ball actually took two guys home last night, can you believe it?).
Justin was pulled from this memory by Beth’s question. “Could you make me some french toast while I dry my hair? Thanks hun.” Without waiting for the reply, she walked out of the room and Justin heard her blow-dryer roar to life.
Justin walked through the hallway of the small one bedroom apartment and into the kitchen. The apartment was the upper level of an old house. The place always reeked of cigarette smoke because of the two women who lived downstairs, but at least it was cheap.
“You feeling a little better, buddy?” Tiger brushed up against Justin’s leg as he opened the refrigerator door.
Justin worked quickly to create breakfast for Beth. Fifteen minutes later he had the French Toast steaming on the table, with warm maple syrup and an ice cold glass of orange juice to wash it down with. Beth quickly walked through the kitchen, a hurried look on her face.
“Oh babe, I changed my mind like ten minutes ago, I’m just going to grab some coffee on the way. I’ll call you later. Don’t forget about the puke in the bathroom.” Beth had already slammed the front door behind her before Justin could reply.
Justin sat at the table with two plates of French toast in front of him, and Tiger meowing around his ankles. Beth’s mind changed faster than her moods. Sighing softly, Justin rose from the table and discarded both plates of French toast into the garbage. “I don’t even like French toast, Tiger. I’d give it to you, but with your luck it would give you diabetes.” Cleaning up the dishes in the sink, he was about to go to the bathroom to begin vomit clean-up, when he heard the quiet rumble of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. Picking it up, he read the message.
‘Just got fired, is 8:30 too early to start binge drinking?’
A slight smile crawled across Justin’s face as he began tapping a response: ‘8:30 is way too early, but it’ll take you 30 minutes to get here. 9:00am is a perfectly acceptable time to start.’
*****
Tyler parked his blue Stratus on the street in front of Justin’s apartment. He had thought about calling his parents or his sister while on the way, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every time he reached for his phone, the weight on his chest got heavier.
Just get through today. Then you can let them know.
Walking up the narrow sidewalk along the side of the
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