Chronicles of the Living

Chapter 1

     If there's one person who's always been there for me in life, it's been Jack fucking Daniels. There's nothing in my life that makes me happier than coming home from work and unscrewing a fresh one. I know I drink too much, my friends don't let me forget it. All that aside I wouldn't classify myself as an alcoholic, I see it more as keeping myself sane. This town is too goddamn small for all the drama in it.

     I work at a shitty little antique store selling knick knacks to geriatric women. Planning on passing them to their grandchildren thinking a wooden doll, or 60 year old vase will help them remember dear ol' grams. Most days there aren't all that bad though, barely anyone under the age of 50 steps through the doors and the chances of them actually buying anything are slim to none. I'm not even sure how we keep that place open, my boss Sophia says God gives her all she needs and it stays open by the will of God. I like to think it's a front for an underground drug operation run by her and her two violently ignorant sons.

     I sat in my studio apartment assessing the mess of it I made last night. Man I really know how to party, even if it is by myself. I find drinking on my own always ends crazier than any party I've ever been to.

     Empty whiskey bottles and pizza boxes are  scattered all over the floor. All my curtains have found their way off the rods , the rods are bent to shit anyway. The room smells of stale smoke and grease. I reach over to my night stand and grab a cigarette and my zippo. I flick the zippo open and strike the flint, lifting it to the cigarette pressed between my lips.

     "Ahhh shit" I groan after a long drag. I stand up and head for the bathroom, time for another day in Sophia's dust palace.

     I turn on the sink and look in the mirror, I look like shit. My hair is a mess of brown vines and my grey eyes are dark and sunken. I run my finger down a split in my lip from one of my escapades down at Paddy's Pub. It still stings but you should really see the other guy, one ugly motherfucker. I consider shaving my patchy beard but I'm already gonna be late, not that it would really matter. I shove some water in my face and turn off the sink. I toss my half smoked cigarette into the toilet and grab my stick of deodorant. I rub it on stepping out the bathroom door.

      I toss the deodorant stick onto the recliner and grab the stained Nirvana tee shirt draped over the armrest. I shove it over my shoulders and slip on some shoes, I slept in these jeans but fuck it I don't care to bother. I throw on a black denim jacket and find my keys in the pocket.

     Stepping out my apartment door I'm greeted by my neighbor. Mrs Ambrose is a sweet old woman, she's old school but she's sweet. She's calling one of her many cats that seemed to have made their way out into the hallway.

     "That damn cat I just can't keep him in" she says frustrated.

     "Have you tried keeping the door shut?" I smirk.

     "You know I'll just have to try that" she giggles. "How are you today honey" she says somberly.

     "Another day in paradise" I say with a smile stepping past her down the hallway.

     "Oh I'm making banana bread" she says excitedly as I made my way down the hall.

     "Save me a loaf will ya?" I look back to tell her but she's already closed her door. Heading down the stairs I see her car perched on the wooden railing. I reach to pet it and it nuzzles itself into my hand. "Hey buddy" I say affectionately. Id never get my own cat but they can be sweet little shits.