ცυცცՆ૯ υƿ {૭Һ૦ς੮ + ძ૯ค੮Һ}

I tried not to be drunk on the job. I tried really, really hard. But when one works in a brewery and bar-- surrounded by all the fucking alcohol one could ever want--, one can kinda sneak it real easy like and just pop some back on the fly.

Apparently I'd misjudged how much I'd already had. That tequila ten minutes ago was not the best idea, especially when it's straight from the damn bottle.

Slumped against one of the holding tanks, I went ahead and downed another swig. Why shouldn't I? I can be drunk in the middle of the work day every once in a while. Hell, Brandy is probably stoned AND drunk off his ass while he works.

I tried to squeeze a bit tighter between two gleaming tanks as I heard the click of the brewery door. I lifted a quick prayer to whoever may have been listening that it wasn't my dad and that, if is was, that he wouldn't find me any time soon.