Life Lessons From A Drunk


russo_icon.gif seamus_icon.gif

Scene Title Life Lessons From a Drunk
Synopsis Sometimes beer goggles make people wiser; sometimes it just makes them seem wiser.
Date October 5, 2010


A nondescript bar.

Someone's grandmother once said, "Nothing good happens after 2am."

Even four hours later, with the sun's light just barely starting to illuminate the tops of the skyscrapers, the only people out in the bars at this time of night are the ones that you usually wouldn't want to run into in the day. Perhaps with a few notable exceptions.

The bar is quiet this morning, save for the muttering of a jukebox and the sound of glasses tapping against the wood of the table. A few drunks have been laid out in the booths, and the bartender is making the rounds, rousing them to stagger home, now that the curfew is lifted.

Not all the barflys or morose or unconscious, however. "Tell me Ma, when I go home, th' boys won't leave th' gals alone! They pulled…her hair…and something comb…" Seamus Lane stumbles out into the hallway from the restroom, catching himself on the wall with one hand, and awkwardly trying to tug his zipper up with the other. His shaggy brown hair is a mess on his head, and he turns bloodshot eyes slowly up from the floor as he gets his bearings. Where is he? Oh right… the bathroom.

Straightening up, he peers at the door in front of him, sounding slowly out the word. "Muh…muh…men. Men." Blinking, he staggers in a half-circle to peer at the door he just came out of. "Wimm…women. Huh. What th' fuck did I pee in?" he mutters to himself. That thought tumbles through his liquid brain, and he sloooowly tilts to the side, before his feet catch under him and he starts his drunken stagger out into the main area. He grins when he sees the bar, with its stools mostly empty, and aims himself in that direction. Oh god! He could really go for a drink right now.

"Hey, hey, hey," Brad's voice rasps gruffly as Seamus clings to the wall. "That wall ain't…" one of those words he rarely uses "… done nothin' bad to yous." He points matter-of-factly towards the other man, punctuating each syllable with a wave of that finger from his perch on the bar. The glass of amber fluid in front of him is nearly gone, just another glass in a long line of drinks. Pressing a hand to his forehead, Russo shoots the other man a toothy grin before resting his elbows on the bar, if only to prop up his own head. He's downed too many drinks in one night; the good news is this bar is, as always, far from his AA meeting place, no one recognized him, which means no getting caught.

He leans against the back of his stool, forcing himself up with an uncomfortable crack of his back, eliciting a toothed wince, "That'll hurt tomorrow… er… today… later…" his gaze shifts from the other man back to the bartender before slapping his hand on the empty bar next to him. "Sal-ly!" he exclaims towards the bartender before pointing back towards Seamus. "That man — " the declaration is honest, "needs another drink!"

Seamus stares down the barrel of that finger as he hobbles up to the bar, cross-eyed and frowning before he follows it back to his owner, grinning. "It'll only hurt if you let it hurt. Hair of th' dog, m'man," he says enthusiastically in his thick Irish accent, hauling himself awkwardly up onto a bar stool beside Brad, before he can plant his elbows on the bar for balance.

As the bartender is called, Seamus' face lights up and he thrusts a finger in the air. "One more roooound! And you!" That finger drops to Brad's face, "Are a sound friend. My drinking buddy! C'mon, let's get a bit of Vitamin G, eh?" That finger hovers still, and Seamus' eyes narrow. "Anybody ever tell ya y've got…the face?"

"Yessssssss! One more round!" Brad repeats as he raises his hands in the air enthusiastically, falling off his chair in the process thanks to his lack of balance and the look ma, no hands phenomenon. After toppling to the floor, he chuckles, pulling himself back up onto it, clambering as best he can to regain his perch.

The bartender, in the meantime is pouring Seamus another round and refilling Russo's drink, even if she shouldn't be. Brad rests his elbows on the bar, and turns to face his drinking buddy, "The face? Once I got told I got 'the look' — I'm pretty sure she just wanted in on my Johnny Apple Seed parts if y'know what I mean." He draws the glass to his lips.

Seamus realizes talking to thin air after a moment, and he looks around. "Oy! Mate, where'd you scarper off to?" He looks to the left, away from Brad as he gets back up on the stool, and back to the right… ah, there he is! Grinning, Seamus claps a hand on Brad's shoulder as he picks up the glass of Irish Nectar. The bartender gets a toast and a drunken wink before he knocks back a mouthful.

"Mmmm! Ahhhh, slainte! No no no…th' /face/!" Seamus levels his half-full glass at Brad again, slumping heavily against the bar. "The um…" His finger moves in a slow circle, pointing in the general direction of Brad's head. "The thing! On the telly! You've got the telly face! Like…like you're one of those blokes what are on the TV, y'ken?"

"Ahhhhhhhh. Yesssssss. I am on the TV sometimes. Like once a week or something — " Brad raises a single hand and waves it fleetingly like being on television once a week is the single most mundane thing in the world. His lips curve into another toothy grin as he brings his scotch to his lips — neat, just the way he likes it. His fingers tap gently against the side of the glass when he brings it down, setting it on the bar.

"Sooooo. You watch the show? Orrrr just recognize me from like stuff." The specifics of where are left to Seamus' imagination as he shifts on the stool again. He salutes a few fleeting patrons, just more people heading home after a long night of booze — more of his drinking buddies tonight.

Seamus's eyes widen like a kid who's just seen the biggest candy bowl in the world, and he scoots closer to Brad, on the edge of his barstool. "You're yankin' me fuckin' chain! Get off your screw! Oh fuck yeah, love it! Okay okay okay…" His voice lowers to a stage whisper and he rasps out, "You gotta tell me, mate…how do you get your head in the tiger's mouth without it bitin' down? Do you ever forget to feed 'em?"

"Well tigers're not the best — Whuuuut?" Russo's face contorts into a confused wince. "I would only ever stick my head in a tigers mouth by accident — like… if I went to the zoo now and wanted to invade the tigers or give 'em five like Tony — dude. We should get Frosted Flakes. I used to love Frosted Flakes. Or Count Chocula. Or some other awesome flavoured cereal, loaded with sugaaars. Mmmmm." He brings his liquor to his lips, fully expecting it to taste like Count Chocula. His cheeks flush a light pink.

"What? You don't…Oh!" Seamus sits up, giving a Russo a conspiratorial grin. "I getcha, I getcha. You use a stunt double. Right right, your secret's safe with me." He winks, tapping the side of his nose, and spilling a little whiskey onto his shirt. "Gah! Oh, fuckin' 'ell…" He looks down at his shirt, and lifts the cotton fabric to his mouth to suck that liquid out. Waste not, want not!

Russo's suggestion has Seamus' eyes widening, and his shirt falls out of his mouth. "Oh, you know what is the best way to start y'r day? Wheaties with whiskey. Fuckin' love me…me W stuff. Wheaties… Do Frosted Mini-Wheats count, y'think?" He glances down to his watch, but then notices the drink in his hand. Ah hah! A drink, how nice! He takes a long swig, downing most of the rest of it. There's only one mouthful left in the glass now.

"Wheaties and whiskey!" Brad slaps the counter again with a solid strike of his hand. "That's fucking brilliant! Do you Wheaties? I bet Wheaties and whiskey could catch on or something we could gall it W breakfast or something else equally awesome!" The notion of him being a stunt double is completely lost, disregarded with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders another another swig of his drink. "And mini wheats have to count. I mean c'mon man, it's sugar. And damned delicious."

Russo takes another swig of his drink. "So what do you do when not staring at the bottom of a glass Buddy?" This shall, henceforth be Seamus name, hopefully he doesn't wholly hate it.

"Vitamin W! That's what it can be called. Fortifies you for th' day, it fuckin' does, eh?" Seamus laughs as Brad slaps the table, looking up to the bartender. "Sally! Sall-sall…you know what you need?" he asks her, as she gives him an exhausted, long-suffering look. It's the end of her shift, why does she still have to deal with this bullshit? Seamus giggles to himself, and elbows Brad. "Tell her! Tell her what she needs ta start her day off right, mate!"

With a quick drink, Seamus finishes off his drink, giving his head a shake to clear out the buzz as he slams it down on the table beside Brad's. "Woo! I've got th' next one, bud," he says, holding up two fingers to the bartender. Those stay up as he looks over his shoulder for this "Buddy", guy. …oh wait, he's calling Seamus that! Hah, that's funny. "Heh heh, me? I run…run, uh…a ffffffintage shop, in th' Upper West Side. You like fedoras? Aw fuck me, everyone likes fedoras. You should come down, put on a hat!"

On cue, Brad points directly at the bartender, "Sal, sal, sal~" His sing-song voice is terribly off-key even when he doesn't quite sing it, "Be a pal~ Vitamin W is the cure~ With whiskey that is so… " he mumbles the next word as it doesn't remotely rhyme and he's far to drunk to even attempt at making it rhyme. The drink is brought to his lips and polished off before he's setting the glass back on the table.

At the mention of another round, however, a single arm is thrust into the air triumphantly, "I'd buy a fedora from you any day, Buddy boy! Any single day, I'd buy from you because you are fucking awesome!" He grins broadly as Sally is shaking her head at the two men and pouring them both another round. "Do you wear fedoras like… Frank Sinatra? Did 'ol blue eyes wear fedoras? HEY! Have you ever sold Sinatra a fedora?!"

Seamus is agawk when Brad sings, and he's hit with a fit of giggles even as he slaps his buddy repeatedly on the shoulder. "Woah! Woah woah woah…you /sing/! You should…you should write the jingle, you should! That was fuckin' beautiful, man. Fuckin' beautiful." As that second round comes about, Seamus takes it and thrusts his drink into the air. "To fedoras! Th' corsets for your head!" What? Maybe it makes sense if you're in on the joke. Half that drink gets knocked back, though in the middle, Seamus tries to respond to Brad's question, sending him into a coughing fit as some of that burning drink goes down the wrong tube. He doesn't spill a drop, though, coughing into his sleeve and swallowing quickly. "Kaff kaff kaff… Did I ever! I should tell you of the time…he came in, an…an…he took one look at Lexi, and wrote a song for her, on the spot. True story, by my right arm." He holds up his left hand. "Sang it for her an' everythin', then sold us all the rights to it. Still tryin' t' figger out what t' do with it."

"I will perform the jingle when we market the damned Vitamin W — thew orld will awe-inspire." There's a brief pause before he's leaning forward, "DUDE. We should get a tiger there for when it's on sale!" He runs a hand over his forehead before shifting in his seat again. "Lexi? Who's Lexi? Wait! Wait. Waiwaiaiaiwaiiiit. Are you Lexi?" His eyes widen as he inspects his friend and clucks his tongue, "I can deal with you bein' a Lexi, but that ruins my image of Blue Eyes! I always figured he got lots of tail. Like it only makes sense. I mean… have you seen that man's eyes?! They're so… soo.. soo…" it seems Brad is at a loss to think of the descriptor.

"Lexi? Am I…? Ahahahaha!" Seamus cracks up laughing at that, though, and almost slides out of his chair, though manages to just barely catch the bar and pull himself up onto his stool again. "Oh man, I don't look near as good in a muu muu, no no. She's m…" His words get swallowed as he hiccup-burps, and his cheeks puff out as he blows out that bubble of alcohol fumes. "Phew! She's m' Sis. Smokin' hot…stacked redhead, th' guys are allus fallin' over her. Green…emerald green eyes." Seamus waves a hand near his face, going a little distant. "Ain't never seen eyes so green…" And just like that, the men are both lost in their own little worlds, pondering someone else's eyes.

Sally just gives them both pitying looks as she cleans the glasses.

"BLUE! That's it! BLUE!" Brad declares loudly as he finally thinks of the right word. He finally processes that Lexi is Seamus' sister, giving the guy a strange sideways glance at the descriptors. While Russo has never had a sister (not that he knows of, anyways), he can't imagine he'd be as fond of his as Seamus appears to be of Lexi. He shrugs slightly, "Red hair is beeeautiful. Very bea-u-ti-ful~ My fiance she had thick curl red hair… down to… down t'here," he takes his hand a measures it halfway down his back. And brilliant blue coloured eyes… stole my heart that first day on the show… she was… stunning…"

Seamus's eyes snap to focus at the "b" word, and his finger is in Russo's face. "Hey, you stay away from Lexi, y'got me?" he says, his wobbling glare and his dark tone dead serious suddenly, "If…if y'know what's good for you. Unless y'can treat her right, she's off limits, kay? Got it? And…" The finger drops and he claps Russo on the shoulder again, grinning. "And what would your fiancee think, huh? Man, blue eyes? Wait…was she a tiger?" Seamus eyes his drinking buddy suspiciously. "If she was, that's all you. I'm not gonna judge, love finds it own way, and so on and so forth…" He waves his glass carelessly in the air between them.

"Ha!" There's a comical pull of Brad's lips before they twitch downwards, "Lina don't think anymore. Dead." He wrinkles his nose before bringing the drink to his lips before he's downing some of his drink, polishing it off while the twinkle in his eye fades considerably. His cheeks pale as he lowers his head to the bar and closes his eyes against it. "She was no tiger, but she woulda rescued them. She was beautiful. The beautifulest kindest most awesomest woman that will ever walk the face of this earth.

"Oh…" Seamus' face falls, and he drops his gaze to his drink. A hand gropes up for Brad's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Y'had t' put her down. M'sorry, mate." A moment of silence for them both, mourning over the lost fiancee. He nods solemnly as Brad speaks, and he gives a loud sniff at the end. "She sounds…she sounds like th' best, mate. Top shelf." Suddenly, he raises his glass and cries out, "T' Lina! A drink to Lina!" There's a tired rumble of agreement from around the bar, as the drunks who are left take another opportunity for another drink. Seamus just knocks back the rest of his drink in one go.

"Lina!" Russo cheers in agreement before he polishes off another scotch, just another in a long chain of scotches. "Ahhhhh." He slams the glass on the bar and pushes it towards the bartender before laying his head on the bar. "Best gal ever." There's a small pause. "There's this other broad… she's… alluring… but Lina…" he clucks his tongue. "I love Lina. Sometimes I talk to her photo because… " he whistles, "then it's like she's still alive or something." He waves a hand in the air, "The new lady like hides her fragility. Or maybe I'm the fragile one. Have you ever been the gal in a relationship? Like not with a feller, but like… been the like… stalling one on all fronts…"

There's now a man slumped against the bar beside Seamus, and he automatically pats Russo's back, giving it a friendly, masculine rub. Just enough to show solidarity without being fruity, of course. "Me? Th' gal? Go on outta that… I've had my share of mots…but in Ireland, even th' strong women still act like women. They run, we chase, y'follow? It's how th' world works, and anythin' else is just too damn confusin' t' be worth our time, y'know? If a girl ain't actin' like a girl, then y'shouldn't be botherin'."

The pat on his back does its work, drawing Russo to straighten in his stool and to peer back at his drinking buddy. "How dead is dead enough to move on? Is it possible for someone to be dead enough?" He sighs heavily before tapping his fingers alongside his glass. "Ehn. I like this gal. She's not… I mean, I initiated it… I asked her on a non-date. It's all very…" he waves a hand flippantly, brushing the words aside like someone might erase them from a chalkboard. "Whatever, right? Women. Make everything complicated.'

"Hey hey hey, stow that talk, mate!" Russo gets a hard poke to his chest with Seamus' drinking hand, and he leans in to fix Russo with a hard stare. "Living's got nothin' to do with the dead. Y'move on when you're ready, not when they've finished rotting away. Y'don't need to dig them up and ask, "Hey love, are you dust yet so I can get some tail?" No!" He snorts and eyes his glass, knocking back the last drink before slamming it on the table. While sliding off his stool, he continues his drunken monologue, arms spreading out wide. "She loved ya and wanted ya to be happy, right? Then she'll want ya t' be happy now, an' not be worryin' about her! Go c'mon, mate! Up on yer feet!" Seamus grins, pointing to the front door of the bar. "It's a brand new day! A day to grab life by th' tits an' say "I'm alive!""

The bar around them gets a few muted cheers, the drunks who are still conscious raising their heads to listen to Seamus' rousing speech.

Brad essentially stumbles off his stool at the urging. "Right! You're right! I should just… I should just march on over to her and… what should I do?" His face contorts into something akin to confusion as he stumbles towards Seamus, his own motivations escalated and inhibitions diminished thanks to the alcohol. Unfortunately his thoughts are drowning in it as well while he raises both of his arms in the air. "I am fucking alive! I'm alive! Right man?! I wanna grab life by the tits and take it down! I mean, I can do anything, right?!"

"Tell her what's going on!" Seamus says, a huge grin on his face and his finger thrust in the air as he takes slow steps backwards, trying to keep his feet under his body. "Go to her and say, "I'm a man, baby! I'm not your bitch! I'm not the woman! You're the woman, and I want you t' be my woman!"" As Brad stumbles forward, Seamus reaches out and catches him by the hand, each man keeping the other upright. "Fuck yeah, you can! You're a fuckin' superman, you are! You can leap the…the fuckin' buildings, if you wanted to! Nothing can stop you!"

"You, Buddy," Russo grins broadly at the physical support. "You are a fuckin' genius!" He clucks his tongue, still tasting the reminiscent alcohol on his tongue. "What about the lady who produces my show! I mean damn K is hot and has been trying to get down on my baby arm for years! What do you tell to a woman you like love but don't want to love-love if you know what I mean?" Pretty much the entire drunk bar knows what Brad means… nothing like innuendo. With another flippant wave of his hand, he decides this isn't important. "I will find her tonight — " he glances through the window " — this morning!!! THIS MORNING! I will go to Missy and tell her… and tell her the…" he points back towards Seamus "tell her what you said." Whatever that was.

Seamus spreads his arms wide. "Then let her jump on it! Let her bob on y' til' the cock crows thrice!" Laughing at his own joke, he claps Brad on the back and shoves him towards the doorway, caught up in his own energy. "You find your Missy and tell her about your baby arm! And tell her she's the…the apple of your eye, that she's got what it takes to make your stock grow. Eh? Eh? Amiright?" Economic puns? Where did those come from?

"Right! RIGHT!" Brad raises an arm into the air before reaching out and clapping Seamus on the back. "Buddy — thank you! You've been a real pal!" Or someone just to drink with. "Gimme your card and I'll buy a fedora from you … everyone needs a corset for their head, am I right?! I mean anything that works for fuckin' blue eyes — " works for everyone else. He smiles broadly as he reaches out to shake the other man's hand one last time before going… wherever he's going to go. God-willing it'll be to pass out somewhere. But really… who knows?

A card! That's what Seamus has been forgetting. "Uh, right!" He starts patting himself down…but oh, there's a hand to shake, and he grabs it to pump eagerly, grinning from ear to ear. Happy to have made a positive difference in the world. And there goes his student of life. It's just so beautiful, Seamus can feel the love welling up inside him.

…wait, that ain't love. The Irishman hurks, putting a hand to his mouth and turning quickly towards the bathroom. Outta the way!

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