Melting your beer bottle in the fire must have seemed like a pretty cool trick to your drunk friends. Whoa, cool, they must have said. It bubbles. Then they returned to their beers, pounding them down until overcome by the urge to vomit into the rising tide. You kept poking at the bottle, watching it slowly melt into nothing, even in your drunkenness recognizing the metaphor for your own deliquescing dreams.
Later, sober, you buried it and metaphor in the sand.
There were two unanticipated problems with your scheme, though. First, the bottle didn't melt all the way. Second, it broke in pieces, leaving a jagged edge that could slice through a defenseless foot like glass through skin.
Which it did.
Thanks, jackass.
4 comments:
I hope that the jackass gets drunk on his next trip to the beach, gets in a romantic mood, grabs a nearby drunken floozy, and has some bare-butt lovin' on the very spot where he left his bottle.
Ooo. Glass wounds. Nothing should be able to cut skin that well. And why glass, a material used so often in glassware? Is it really a good idea to have things that cut easily go near the mouth?
No.
I had wanted to go to Westport instead, but someone with a little more authority had the final say.
*whip crack*
-Mark
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