Life's Better When You Gotta Bassist In It // L.A. Guns •Kelly Nickels•

I Don't Drink

The year was 1983, currently sneaking out of my bedroom window to go to a bar. Even though at 18 years of age, I still lived with my parents, well people who I had to call my parents.

My mom, an alcoholic who learned to drink her weight in vodka shortly after I was born and my dad, a continuous recovering drug addict. Realistically, nothings been normal since I was younger.

My dad was never mean, he was just constantly confused and reckless, which isn't very fun when your mom is a bitchy alcoholic. It's like taking care of toddlers, except ones always drinking and ones always strung out.

I climbed out of my window and drove to the the bar. When I got there, I walked to the bar, asking for a water. I never drink alcohol, afraid I'll turn out like my mom did. After I finished my water, a band came on stage.

L.A. Guns, huh, I've never heard of them before. They began to play and I was quite impressed. After the set, I went back to the bar and sat down, laying my forehead down on the cool bar counter, trying to figure out how I was going to avoid getting in trouble by mom and wondering if my dad was home, or with his drug buddies.

I sighed and picked my head up, holding it up with my hands, my elbows digging into the bar. "You look like you could use a drink." A voice said. I turned my head to see a dude with long black hair with a hat, sit next to me smiling. I think he's the bassist of the band that played.

"I don't drink." I said shaking my head. "Oh why not? I tend to have fun when I have a few drinks." He said. I shook my head. "I don't find it fun." I said, getting up and checking my watch. It was 12:34. "Shit." I said.

"Shit what?" He asked, curiously. I shook my head and sighed. "I missed curfew, which means I have to go." I said.  My mom always came to see if I was still in my room at midnight. She's done it ever since the first time I snuck out when I was 15.

"You have a curfew?" He asked. I nodded my head. "Yeah, so if you'll let me. I need to leave." I said walking to the door.  He said okay and hoped to see me soon, which was strange, we didn't even know each other's names.  When I reached the outside of the bar, I ran to my car and sped home.

I quickly parked my car and climbed back to my window and into my room. The light was on and all my shit was scattered everywhere. "What the fuck?" I said frustrated. My mom walked in, nearly an empty bottle of vodka in her hand.

"I told you not to sneak around anymore!" She said, walking towards me. "All I did was go see a concert, that's it!" I yelled back. "Then why do you smell like a bar? You been getting fixed up? You know damn well I didn't raise you to be a whore!" She yelled.

I didn't even know how it got to this point. "I didn't do anything!" I said. She was closer to me now. "You'll learn, soon enough." She said. And with that, she took her free hand and punched me right in the face, more than once.

I was on the ground, trembling. I reached up to my nose and found that it was bleeding. My face would for sure be bruised tomorrow and I'd have a new black eye. This has happened before, but never this bad. "You do realize that dad probably gets all doped up because he doesn't want to watch you drink your life away? When you gunna open your fucking eyes?!" I said, still kneeling on the ground as I spit out blood.

"Oh shut up, this, this is all your fault!" She said. "No, you just rather drink your life away to the bottom of every god damn bottle, than face your fucking problems!" Before I knew it she was coming towards me again.

The vodka bottle raised high above her head, and then smack. The bitch broke a bottle over my head. It must have knocked me out because I woke up and it was light out. I had a headache and I smelled like vodka.

I slowly got up and stumbled to the bathroom. I looked like hell. I had to get out, last night was the last straw. I grabbed my duffel bag and packed everything I could. I'd come back for the rest of it when my mom was at the bar.

I walked down stairs. "I'm leaving, I'll come get the rest of my stuff later." I told my mom. I then drove to the only place I could go. The Whiskey.

I talked to the owner and he let me stay in the storage room till I found a place. I lit a cigarette and as I was getting comfortable, I rummaged around my suitcase till I found what I was looking for. A wad of cash.

My savings for an apartment. I looked through the newspaper and found an apartment for rent. I got up and walked out of the storage room and behind the bar for the phone.

I called the owner and he told me I could move in right away. I'd do that tomorrow. I hung up and decided to work a shift, that was the deal. I worked the bar, I had a place to stay tonight.

After my shift, I was tired. I walked back to the storage room and closed the door, going to sleep. The next morning, I met the owner at the apartment and handed him my money.

Rent was a little too expensive and I was now broke. I decided to post an ad in the newspaper.

A few days after I posted the ad, I got a phone call from a dude saying he'd take it, I excepted. I was desperate to find a roommate to split the rent with.  It was a Tuesday, and my new roommate would be moving in on Wednesday.