All I wanted was a drink

There we were, the beast that called itself thirst was circling itself like a damn vulture and all of our glasses were dirty. Not only the drinking glasses, but even the glasses I use to see everything. I needed a bottle of soda, like maybe one of those 20 oz. cokes.

“Hey bro,” I said, “You wanna get a coke?”

“Why do you drink that shit, man?” My bro said as he continued to play on my XBOX 360. He didn’t even bother to avert his gaze from the screen. “Why not just get some water?”

“Well, the glasses are dirty.”

“So wash them.”

I was about to, but then I realized something else: We were out of soap.

“Dude, seriously, what’s wrong with just drinking from the tap with your hands?”

“After that hardcore session we just had? My palms are more sweaty than a Cuban in Miami, and the various acids would hurt the purity of the water. Fuck that, I’m getting a mass-produced, carbonated beverage”

“Whatever, man. Just bring me a slurpee or something.” As I picked up the keys and prepared to leave the house, I heard him shout, “How sweaty is a Cuban in Miami anyway?”

I really have to stop making these off-hand similies.

So I drove all the way down to the 7-Eleven off of Georgia and hopped out the car. As I walked towards the entrance, I saw a strange homeless man with one tooth grinning at me. Why was he grinning at me? Maybe he was staring off into space and I just happened to be walking past his field of vision.

So I walked into the store, looked over the shelves, and went to grab a coke. But with the sheer amount of choices available in this little 7-Eleven, I started wondering if maybe I should go for a pink lemonade? Or perhaps a Sprite? Or even pay a few cents extra and get the brain-uncurling goodness of Red Bull?

In the end, I decided to go with the classic option of a classic Coca-Cola. I went up to the Indian gentleman working behind the cash register, who seemed annoyed that he actually had to deal with a paying customer at this time of night. He was even more annoyed when I actually decided to pay for that bottle of coke with exact change. Nonetheless, he took the money and wished me a nice day as I opened the coke and took a sip on my way out.

I got into the car and put the coke in the somewhat large cupholder and drove home with my prize. But I was only halfway home when tragedy struck. In my haste, I had forgotten to secure the cap on the coke. The bottle’s contents spilled on the passenger’s side of the floor. I reflexively bent down to retrieve it, and ended up crashing my car into a light pole.

All I wanted was a drink.