Relative Beginnings 1: Big Bang

Chapter 5

A few weeks later, I stumbled through my morning ritual on the way to work cursing every step as my head was pounding after the night of drinking and debauchery with Doug and Ian. Those two could easily drink me under the table and I made the unwise decision to try and keep up. I cursed every pounding step through downtown.

I reached the shop and dropped my keys twice trying to fumble them into the lock. "Mother puss bucket. Get in there," I cursed to no one in particular.

"Here, let me help you, laddy." Ian was all smiles with a steady hand extending to the door lock.

'Dang, Scots,' I thought. 'They have the alcohol tolerance of Nick Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas."'

In a few swift motions the door was unlocked and in we went. Ian looked back at me a few times with a light chuckle.

"I told you not to try and keep up. You're a wee lightweight." He tugged on his beard and appeared concerned.

I wanted to shove a bag pipe up his Scottish arse. "Ugh. Don't talk so loud," was all I could muster.

I immediately went up to my office, flipped on the computer and coffee machine and reached for a water bottle inside the small fridge. I slammed through a couple of desk drawers before I found the Costco sized ibuprofen bottle. I gobbled down about six pills, belched uncomfortably, and took several deep breathes with my eyes closed. "Please don't puke," I muttered to the boot up screen.

The morning progressed through our daily group meeting, calls with distributors and periodic shop check ins. Luckily my headache and stomach issues subsided and I started to feel right as rain again.

I heard the slap on my back before I felt it. "Hey, rock star. How's it hanging?"

I groaned and then sucked in my breath from the slap. "Doug, what the heck are you doing here?"

"Is that anyway to great your best friend, Eth?" He actually looked hurt as he plopped himself down on my desk.

"I'm just getting you back for last night. I shouldn't have had that seventh drink." I rubbed my temple for emphasis.

"Do I look like your mummy? If you want to hang with the big boys, you need to build up your tolerance." He crossed his arms. "I spent years in training. It's finally paid off!" His smile displaying his coffee-stained incisors and his crooked lower tooth.

"Are you sure that's something to be proud of," I asked genuinely interested.

"Of course it is! Being in a band is all about branding, ya big doofus. You, of all people, should know that marketing is the key to success." Doug put his hands on his chest as if he were holding on to a pair of suspenders.

"Yeah, but you also need to deliver a good product," I mumbled.

Doug's smile quickly faded. "Are you saying that my music is shite?"

I quickly regretted my words. "Um, err, no. I was thinking about all of the times you couldn't finish a show because you were black out, crazy drunk. I love your music." I looked over at him sheepishly. "You know that."

Dougs smile returned. "Black out drunk is my brand! Well, that, and amazing songwriting and music that will make you want to kiss your mom goodnight." He stared at me beaming, proud of his role in the music world.

I broke the silence, "You're an idiot."

"An idiot? An idiot, you say?" Doug struggled and then stood up on my desk. "Can an idiot do this?" He started to dance a jig on my desk kicking over papers and promotional material.

I immediately regretted my comments. I reached out to grab Doug, "Just get your buttocks down from there."

"What, these sweet and innocent little buttocks?" He began rubbing his derriere and started hopping around like a bunny rabbit. All the while my grandfather's desk creaked and moaned from the abuse.