Three's Up by Paul Saunders (smallest ebook reader TXT) 📕

the, 'You stink o' booze' and...I just whacked 'er one...well, two actually. I didn't mean to do it, I didn't want to hit 'er, it's like her head came right at my fists. Twice."

Boxer collapsed into his seat, the circle came alive with rapturous applause, patting his back as he cradled his face and openly congratulated him, all except George.

"George. Don't you think Boxer did well? It takes courage to bear your soul like that." Justin leant patronisingly over his shoulder, all eyes were locked on George now.

"Well, first of all I thought this lot only turned up for the free biscuits, but it turns out they like their drama."

He felt the sharpness of Justin's gaze and the heat of Boxer's breath, who was sat metres away. George seemed to recoil in his seat without moving.

"I've just never really applauded domestic violence."

"What the fuck would you know 'bout it, then?" Boxer erupted. George felt the impact of each word pounding into his chest.

"Boxer, take two minutes out of the circle. We all forgive you." Justin raised a calming hand and sat in the newly vacant seat.

"Don't you think we all deserve a second chance, George? We've all made mistakes, we've all strayed from the beaten track, but we've all followed our respective beacons to this place of recovery, this place of forgiveness. This is a circle of love and support, never accusation. We all need love and support here, so we offer it in return." This earned a feeble nod from the group. "I think someone's waiting outside the circle for an apology George."

"Yeah? I'd like to see you going down the local nuthouse singing that love and forgiveness lark. They wouldn't even let you home to collect your pyjamas. I don't know how you've managed to hypnotise this bunch, but all that 'Jesus loves you' malarkey doesn't wash with me."

"Geor…"

"To be honest, with this new found sobriety, I'd forgotten how fucking doo-lally this world really is. I mean, look at this lot." George waved a hand round the circle. "They're lifeless. Is this rehabilitation? Is this life eternal? If so I'm jumping off the wagon. I'd rather live six months as a drunk then twenty years as…as…some bleeding whiter-than-a-Nun's-knicker-drawer God botherer."

The circle grew agitated as George grew more confrontational. His body was screaming for alcohol, his joints were grinding like an un-oiled engine. His heart beat searing blood through his aching veins as his anger boiled.

"You all congratulate that wrestler…"

"Boxer."

"Boxer, for going home pissed and physically abusing his wife, just because he admitted it? What, so do we go down the courts and throw roses at anyone who pleads guilty?"

"We are supporting him through his rehabilitation, offering love and forgiveness…"

"There you go again, banging on about your love and bloody forgiveness. I hope you don't back horses with that blind faith."

"I was weak and a light shone on me…"

"Yeah, the paramedic's torch just before they dragged you out the gutter. So, you've seen this 'light', and what? It was so clean and bright that now everything else looks dirty? You're going round like some sodding Grandma with a wet-wipe, scrubbing everyone's chin you can get your hands on. What's so bad with having a bit of dirt round your chin anyway?"

George eyed the circle once more, they all sat slouched in their seats, staring at the ceiling, without reaction to anything that has just been said.

"Why do you lot come here anyway?"

A few members looked around; one stood up sheepishly and scratched his head. "My name's Tom, an' I'm an alcoholic."

Justin furiously started clapping and the circle followed suit, robotically.

"No, no, we know that, but why did you come here

?"

"Judge told me to. Otherwise I'm down for two years. Drunk driver, see? I knocked down some old girl and her dog, 'Poppy'."

"How do you know the dog's name?"


"It was stuck to my windscreen when I got home, collar an' all. That's how I knew I'd hit something."

The group applauded.

"Shhhh. No need to applau…what about you?" George picked somebody at random, who obediently stood.

"My name's Max, an' I'm…"

"Yes, yes, we know." One person in the group clapped, George glared fiercely. "But why are you here?"

"I gots to. Otherwise they're gonna stop my benefits."

"So, let me clear this up. Hands up whoever's here off their own backs? Who came here 'cause they actually wanted to change

?".

An old man feebley raised his arm, Justin sighed with relief.

"You came here because you wanted

to change?" George spoke like an interrigator.

"Well, actually it's a bit embarrasing. I'm not really an alcoholic. I thought this was Bridge Club. Justin wouldn't let me leave. He kept saying I was in denial. I only have a glass of Sherry at Christmas."

"When did you start coming here?"

"Three months ago."

"There's your circle of love and support, Justin. Fuck this, I need a drink."

***

"The differenearance between a heavy drinker and an alcohololic is that the heavy drinker jus' drinks far, far too much. Like me…and…er…what's your name again?"

"My frien's call me Boxer…but my real name, my real name's Henry."

"Well, Henry…what was I saying? I don't know. All this healthy eating malarkey is like the new black."

"Yeah, 'cause all these rap singers is starting to get a bit boring now and they needs replacing with something. Why not a salad?"

The barman raised an eyebrow at the two drunks that leant heavily on the bar talking nonsense and checked his watch, it was little after noon. "Gents, you need to wake your friend up." He gestured to the third man that lay asleep next to them. George turned and nudged him,

"Oi, Justin. The man says you gotta wake up."

"What's that?" Justin woke slowly, then gestured the barman to come close. "You know what? I think if Parkinson's disease met Alzheimer's at a party, right. The love-child of their symptoms would be alcoholism."

"I think you've had…"

"Have you ever met anyone suffering from Parkinson's? They're all over the show." He pointed dizzily at George who, for the third time couldn't find his mouth with his drink, "See? Alzheimer's is different all together, I…I…what was I saying?"

"Look, I'm sorry sir but you've got to…"

"The difference between us and those people with the actual Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases is that they'd do anything, an' I mean anything to not have their symptoms. Yet we choose to have them. We choose to be here. I spoke to God…"

"Right, that's it. You've had too much to…"

"…I used to be an alcohololic y'know, but I've transformed myself into…" Justin's head dropped and he vomited into his lap. "That's warm. Oh, now it's cold."

***

"My name's George, an' that's Justin. We're…oh, fuck it".

END

Imprint

Publication Date: 03-03-2009

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
For all those who followed Alice's white rabbit, but couldn't quite fit down the hole. Lodged forever in a limbo between normality and insanity. There's even a Starbuck's down here.