CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | Contact
What was initially a plan to drink and talk shit all day – without getting blind drunk and talking too much shit – has unfortunately become just that.
With the cricket roaring on the big screen in a quiet local pub, and a long overdue reunion between hometown characters taking place in the front bar – today was meant to be about quality, not quantity.
But now it’s become both.
The eight hours spent drink mid-strengths in the blazing Aussie sun has been immediately undone by the knee-jerk decision to move onto the rum and cokes.
It’s also undone every other precaution that was made in preparation for a lengthy afternoon in eachother’s company.
Namely, the fact that everyone had made sure they all ate a high-carb counter meal on arrival, followed by some chips later in the day. The water intake was responsible, and they stuck to the same exact beer from midday until 8pm.
Unfortunately that has been undone too.
Because it’s night time now, and whether it’s a good idea or not, things are escalating.
The first tray of rums has been polished almost as quickly as it arrived from the bar. It has only reminded everyone how easy it is to get through a seven glass of the sugarcane champagne. It looks like they might need to load up.
The conversation is starting to escalate too, with gentle ribbings turning into brutal roasts, and shut ups turning into fuck ups. The annoying table of patrons next to them are starting to look like boxing bags, and the exotic liquor on the shelves above the rum are looking like they are worth a try.
The rums will be followed by Baileys, Midori and maybe even that blue shit.
They tried their best, but here we are.
MORE TO COME.
