Blunt

The Problems With Being Alive

Her vision shifted.

Instead of one bartender, there were now three bartenders behind the counter; all three wearing the same dark uniform and the same charming-salesman smile, their hair toussled like stating that they had woken up like this and you've got to admit they look good.

She wanted to laugh. A giggle escaped from her parted lips, and her cheeks heated up. No one was listening to her laugh-at-my-thoughts session, was there?

She found the marble countertop extremely comfortable and cold, and she liked cold. Especially in the midst of hot air and sweaty people grinding to one and another. Pushing her empty tall glass, she embraced the countertop with both arms, smothering her cheeks on the cold surface. She loved the chilliness. Another giggle escaped.

He had been watching her for the last few minutes from behind the counter. She ordered a glass of martini, got drunk because how little she tolerated her alcohol, and was now hugging the cold marble surface with both her arma and cheeks. He wondered if she came here with anyone at all. Should he try to wake her up? Then he heard another giggle, and he knew that the girl was just really drunk, but was yet to pass out.

He hated customers who would pass out without warning. Especially when they pass out near the bar counter. Slurring, sailor-creative drunk old men weren't any better, but he'd rather have an awake customer than a temporarily dead one.

The last order he received tonight was from a group of middle aged women. The girl ordered her drink right before they did, and now he was completely free.

Maybe he should try to warn her not to pass out. He took out the empty glass in front of her head, and shook her arm. "Miss," he said, "Miss, please lift your head."

The girl sobered. "I will not yield!" She cried, her voice pitched. "I will not, will not, will not, I will not yield to you!"

A few heads turned at them. He flushed, knowing what kind of drunk thoughts were passing through their heads. He shook her arm harder.

"Miss, please, do not pass out here."

"I will never obey your orders, mother! I am free! I am me! I am a legal adult in this country of liberty we call the great USA!" She let go of her hold on the countertop and climbed on her seat. "YES WE CAN!"

The last part made him want to plummet and bury himself sixteen feet down the ground without a trace. Well, at least the girl was now awake. He abruptly attempted an escape and stopped when her hands grabbed his collar.

"Tell me, you good-looking bartender, why is it that my life sucks so? All I wanted was love! Freedom! And food!"

A small crowd had gathered around them, some cheering for the girl's drunken speech, some laughing their bottoms out. He jerked backwards, pulling himslef out of the girl's reach. What did he do to deserve this?

"But NO! God just had to give me a cheating liar! A good for nothing mother! And a job that bores the dead to their second death!"

He hoped that when his boss hear about this in the morning, instead of scowling, he would just laugh and pat him on his back. He prayed silently.

"I'm alive! But being alive is a problem itself. Enlighten me, young jedi! Why is life so full of bullshit?" She spat out the last part with such hatred and fear, he himself wasn't sure if he should just oblige with a random answer or let her live her moments to remember about it the next day and feel mortified for the rest of her life.

"You, over there! What in this messed up world is your biggest concern?"

A bald man, probably in his late forties, shot up from the crowd. "My mortgage and debts!"

"Very good! I have the same pro-problem! And you, there! What is your biggest hurdle?!"

"The picky professor in my uni who just loves to pamper rich kids!" A young woman cried, a glass of bourbon in her hand. The crowd hooted an angry tone.

"I just HATE that kind of people!" She wiggled her fingers up in the air.

He realized that the crowd had grown bigger; he could practically see less than three dozen people on the damce floor. Is this some kind of a joke? Anger rose up in him, and he found himself regretting his decision to wake the girl up. How was he going to explain to his boss how a drunk girl had somehow managed to run a one woman rant show, and he had somehow gotten himself involved in it?

"Let me manage myself! Alone! I can live!" She wailed, her legs starting to shake on her chair. "This world doesn't need such selfish, egoistical people! We don't need debt collectors! We don't need tax corruptors! We don't need greedy politicians and their ridiculous laws! We don't need two timers! We don't need a mother who kicks out her own daughter because she chose to take art class! Education and knowledge is free, for God's sake! I demand a huge change in this world! I demand peace! I demand less trouble! I demand secret superheroes to reveal themselves! YES WE CAN!"

The speech sent the crowd into a wild cheer. Even the youngsters who laughed at her joined the crazy mass support. He massaged his temple, wanting all this to just end and go back to his bartending task.

"Where is heaven? It is here! Heaven is here, on earth, but people have corrupted it! It's sad and it makes me want to... Want to drink in sorrow!" She reached out for a glass, unknown to whom it belongs - and swallowed down the liquor in one gulp. The alcohol seemed to fuel her fire even brighter.

"All I want is to find that heaven and forgets all my problems! Is that a hard thing to wish for? Is it bad? I want to be in nirvana! Heyyy, bartender, you in the middle, tell me where is heaven!"

She asked him a question. A fuse lit up inside, and he felt an uncontainable irritation at the young woman for being such a hassle. He was hired to make drinks, not to take care of crazy drunk customers. Where are the bouncers? They should be here from the moment the girl started wailing. It is their job; to deal with potentially harmful customers. Not his job at all.

"Heaven is a place on earth where you lay still inside. Forget and decay. True peace, the smell of nature calling out. That is, Heaven."

The words slit out and exploded from his tongue faster than he could blink. Did he just voiced his bitter opinion on this drunk mess of a girl?

"Your heart stops beating and your brain goes dead. No more thoughts running around in your head and no more things to feel. Your eyes go blind and your ears deaf; everything becomes bland and tasteless. Buried or burnt your flesh is. Congratulations, you've found heaven."

The crowd became so silent, only the thumping beats of the dancing music revebrated through the veins. They stared at him wide eyed, but no one was more surprised than the girl - her mouth agape, her expression fell. His comment seemed to have a sobering effect as her questions became more sensible.

"A-are you telling me to die?" She said.

He shrugged. Boss would probably fire me for this. "Isn't that what you want? A problemless life?"

The distinct murmur of the crowd grew, and he could sense both uneasiness and agreement in their voices. In death they will find no problem; no debt, no mortgage, no deadline for a script assigned by a picky professor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you may, the dancefloor awaits!"

It seemed like alcohol still had an upperhand on the people. They scrambled off, whispering 'nonsense' and 'fun dancing' - leaving the girl alone on her makeshift stage.

"I can't die," she whispered slowly, a look of utter horror was showcased on her face. "I can't die. Can't die, can't die..."

He forced himself to offer her his hand. "Then climb down," he said, "You can still drink your sorrows away."

He concocted another glass of martini.