Four cans of piss and a small bottle of fire water. It might as well have been because that’s what it tastes like. My first time getting drunk and with my cider and vodka at the ready I suppose I could have done a lot worse.
At the ripe old age of twelve my friends and I decide we’ve waited long enough. It’s time to be cool. It’s time to get drunk.
We’re the kids who smoke on the corner of your street, drink cheap cider, avoid school like the plague and whose future depends on our ability to say one thing.” Would you like fries with that Sir”?
I’m gonna cruise through life without a care in the world because I watched Scarface last-night and I know I’m gonna be some mega rich drug lord laughing in the face of the law while my bitches line up to take a slap. It’s gonna be a breeze just as long as I can avoid the monsters beneath my bed and my Mums right hand.
We sip at our warm cider like its some exotic wine to be savoured slowly while we discuss how cool we are and pass around the Autumn edition of the Argos Catalogue opened at the lady’s under-wear section deciding on which one’s the best shag.
It’s like pass the parcel with our vodka which has been watered down to juice. None of us want it yet we love it so much.”Mmmm.. This tastes great, try this”. We say as we try our best to get rid of it. We leave our vodka and PlayStation behind and go for some fresh air.. A smoke.
After chain smoking ten cigarettes each we make our excuse to leave. Our baths are ready or its tea time. We’ve all decided that salt n’ vinegar crisps disguise the smell of beer and fags, so we should be OK. After all, the truth is whatever you want it to be. I’m not convinced.
Sneaking into my house at the late hour of nine thirty I tip-toe towards the toilet while the world around me spins. Tonight I’m Rambo on a secret mission to take a piss and sneak into bed without anyone noticing I’m drunk. Awoken In the early hours of the morning by my Dad I’m given numerous tasks to perform, hover the house, wash the dishes, weed the garden, clean my room are just the start.
I slither my way down the stairs and open the bathroom door. “What happened to the carpet?” I ask my sister. I’m told in disturbing detail that after my elephant like entrance the night before I’d been found by my Mum lying face down in vomit with my pants around my ankles still in the process of having a shit. Clearly I was in the dog house and not feeling so cool anymore.
I’ve since learnt my lesson.. Is something I’d like to say at this moment, but as this blog will soon show, I’m a very slow learner.