Kruppo

Chapter 25
Mitch and I sat in his living room, his parents out for the weekend, off on their anniversary. Mitch had been waiting for such an opportunity, he claimed.
“Glad you’re here,” He said as he disappeared into his room for a few moments, shouting through the door as I sat on the couch. “I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own.” He remerged with a whole case of Natty, and put it down on the small table in front of us. “I’ve got a few girls comin’ over,” He said. “We’ll all have a good time and fuck around.”
I was all for good times, and I had no problem with having girls around, but I wasn’t going to touch the beer. I made this clear to Mitch, but he just laughed. “You say that now,” he said, with a glimmer in his eye. “But trust me when I say that tonight I’m gonna get you drunker than you’ve ever been in your life.”
“Go for it,” I sighed. “You’ll get nowhere, man. I quite for a reason.”
“And there’s a reason why you’re not in good spirits all the time, is there?” Mitch’s eyes were getting intense; filled with frustration. He shook his head. “I’m not sayin’ that getting drunk is the answer to all the problems in life, man. You know me better than that. But…” he bit his lip in deep thought as he popped a can open. “It’s kinda like getting in a fight for me. Is it a temporary happiness? Hell yeah. The Adrenaline kicks in, and you feel like superman for a short while. But that’s all it is, a temporary high. I know that, I ain’t an idiot.”
I just let him keep talking, though his words were starting to get under my skin. I gritted my teeth as he went on. “But let me ask you something; you’ve never been in a fight, have you?” His darkly-smooth eyes were challenging me. I could feel the weight of their punches as they dared me to answer the question.
“No. You know that.”
“Of course you haven’t; so you can’t understand what it’s like being in one. I’m sure it’s probably something like when you’re playing your music, though.” Mitch shrugged. “I mean, it’s just this experience that’s so crazy, you wouldn’t believe it. For maybe a few moments, even if you’re the one getting hit, it’s like some survival episode in a movie or something. You don’t care about what everyone else thinks about you getting beaten up, you’re just looking to get back on your feet and pay this douchebag back for hitting you in the first place. You’re not there to please people; you’re just trying to make sure you knock this guy down so that he can’t get back up for a bit. And if he does get back up, you’ll at least be ready for him.”
I had no idea where Mitch was going with all of this. Suffice to say, I couldn’t see the connection between this explanation and beer. I considered the possibility that Mitch might have been steadily drinking before I’d even arrived, but one glance at his eyes again revealed that this was his first beer of the night, and he was straight.
“And…” I goaded him further anyway, looking for some entertainment.
“My point is, man, that drinkin’s kinda like that. You’re pissed off about something? This’ll at least make sure you’re not so focused on it. It’ll work for a little while, maybe until tomorrow, but then you’ll be ready for whatever.” Mitch held out a beer to me then. I didn’t reach for it, and I didn’t want to.
“Dude, that was a terrible attempt,” I admitted. “That did nothing to encourage me.”
“Then just shut the fuck up and drink anyways. You need to do it, man.” Mitch flung the can into my chest.
“Why do I need to do it? What’s the point?” I really didn’t know, and I was begging for an answer. “It solves nothing.”
“It’s not supposed to solve anything! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? It’s supposed to be a distraction!”
“Then why would I want to do it? I don’t need any more distractions in my life.” That much was true. Mitch didn’t want to hear it though.
“Dude, I know it got out of hand a while ago,” He said. “But you were just a kid then. You didn’t know how to handle it, and you weren’t ready. You’re older and wiser now. You know when to walk away. Are you seriously going to deny yourself some downtime just because you tried something once when you were young and dumb and didn’t like it?”
I didn’t know how to handle this argument. I was unequipped, and it showed. No matter where the debate turned, Mitch had me cornered, just begging me to let go for the night and enjoy myself. I still managed to keep my hands away from the beer can sitting in my lap, cold to the touch.
“You know what? Forget it man. You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever known, Palma. You realize that?” Mitch gave up, fuming. “It’s not even funny anymore. You’re no fun to be around when everyone’s drunk, because all you do is sit in a corner and glare at everyone like they’re degenerates.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but I knew that he was getting there. I had to admit, I felt guilty about running his good mood, but I just couldn’t bring myself to open the can, even if only for the sake of preserving his good mood. About twenty minutes after our heated debate the girls arrived, three of them, all blonde or brunette, all of them looking to have a good time. Then another guy showed up, and the gender ratio was an even 3:3.
Mitch forgot about me when the new guy showed up, and they all drank quickly. The new guy had brought another case and a bottle of Captain Morgan. I sat on the couch, speaking occasionally when someone asked me something or nudged me. Mitch kept glancing my way, though, and I knew he was getting annoyed.
The beer was still in my lap, but it was getting warm now. And as I sat there, surveying this scene of kids doing what kids did best, I suddenly felt something snap in me. What was I doing? How could I be so sullen about the situation? It wasn’t like I was underage, or not mature enough to handle any drinking. The whole thing seemed so…childish now. Shame hit me then, and I felt like an idiot for sitting there on the couch like a goody-two-shoes.
And the truth finally reached me in an epiphany. Who did I think I was? I was getting tired of going to these kinds of hang outs, feeling like the only man in the world that was sober, and not getting what everyone else was laughing at. I was tired of being left to my own devices, having no one there to support me, because everyone was grouping together under the influence instead.
I was getting so tired of it, and this epiphany seeped through the cracks of my armor, breaking my will down. I tried to think of mom, tried to think of why I was remaining sober in the first place. But the moment my thoughts drifted over to her, I felt a sudden disgust with myself. She wasn’t around anymore. I was hanging onto a dead thought, one that had been bludgeoning my brain and my good humor for a long time now. It was time to end this charade and move on to what hopefully seemed to be healthier prospects.
Everyone in the room looked my way when they heard the tab on my beer make a popping noise as I opened it up. Mitch gave a yell of triumph and slapped me on the back. I brought the beer up to my lips, and let it enter my mouth for the first time in years.
It tasted like shit, but that was Natty for you. And even though it wasn’t a pleasant taste, just the feeling of alcohol itself in my system after a few gulps of beer felt different. Or maybe I was just feeling better, knowing that I was going to try and move into a different phase of my life. Something more adventurous or interesting. Whatever the case was, I finished the beer fairly quickly and had myself another one.
I eventually started to slip in my perspective, and everything started to lose focus. I felt like if I started to move around too fast, I was going to fall over and hit my head on the way down. That seemed inevitable rather than just being a possibility, so I tried to stay on the couch while everyone was goofing off around the house. Eventually, one of the blondes started to speak sweetly to me. I was fairly wasted at the time, and I didn’t comprehend a single word she was saying.
Soon, she crawled onto my lap, and not too long afterwards, I lost complete control of my consciousness and everything went black.

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I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds