The Toothless Drunk

The Toothless Drunk

“What’s pleasure? Fellas?”

He gulped his last from the old fashioned beer glass. Whole thing seemed to be peculiar that night. His beer glass itself was an odd with pictures of deer and musk inscribed so well that it seemed to be painted in leisures after 45’s war.

“explain me boys, prove that you have seen the world!”

The time was so histrionic I thought.  This man always gets the attention of the crowd. He then ordered another pint for himself and another for the man who would explain pleasure to him.

“and ya, you all will fail if you put out words to explain pleasure.”

I myself took the table next to him with a soda and went through a comic book. The book, I guessed must have bought by one of the drunkards for his son and forgot to take back home. Anyways it helped me buy some time. The conversation on the other table was fire I would like to say.

This was usual Friday and it was like routine except there were many people tonight. Men who shout “TGIF” right from the bed and yes that’s their routine too. Oh yes, I forgot, it was mine too.

I looked at the pack of minds. Minds that thought had the idea to rule the world, yes rule literally. Sadly the ideas left them when they were sober the following morning. They all were eyeing the extra pint of beer  and were lost too, in the thought to define pleasure without words . it was a fight , not just to win the beer, but to win the pseudo-respect and  be hero of the unworthy gathering.

“ya ya ya! No ones it seems! You all caged birds, one legged pile of junk!!” and the beer spoke.

His fierce words didn’t make the men angry! It seemed as if he flashed light upon the bitter truth of their life. The man seemed to be confident, full of words and love to share those. The words came out like bullets from a sub machine gun, he started to blast.

“hmmm….. aahhhh” he closed his eyes! Inspired a deep air and exhaled them. The breathe touched everyone of them.

“pleasure , only a false writer can explain in words. What oxford dictionary? How can a feeling be transferred into words,”

“look”

He then stood on the table, asked a punk to hand over his glass,

I saw him extending his hands wide open nearly punching a punks nose. It wouldn’t matter even if he had really punched him. He was worshipped as I saw from my place.

He took a mouthful of the bitter beer and closed his eyes and then swallowed his heavenly juice.

“aaahhhh!” he shouted.

“now my boys, this is pleasure. Drinking beer, infront of all you wise chaps, and feeling your love and your attention that is running through my veins, this is pleasure. Yes pleasure”

Applauds were heard on each nooks and I too had to refill my soda. Some had tears while others were hugging each others. The conversation was already getting on my nerves. I was literally the only man who was fresh and sound.

But it was a habit, for me. Every Friday, It was the same, just different listeners.! Yet by looking I could feel as if they knew each other since months.  I had to prepare myself for this. Prepare and heat some patience and clear my ears.

 I ordered some chicken wings for myself and looked at the brotherhood.

Brotherhood, sunk in the lake of love and trust built of feelings depending upon soberness.

“I want a company”, entered a man with moustache curved and circled two times. The curved curl of his moustache was like drooping wig of an English judge. He seemed to be furious or sad , god knows. But surely he wanted someone to spill his feelings.

I wasn’t happy as this man’s entry would surely increase my stay in the pub.

“oh so you are a preacher here huh oldman?” he pointed to the drunk in the center. My wings got stocked on throat upon hearing this. So I thought I too should join the group, afterall this unanticipated entry with unexpected energy seemed to bring something new. I wasn’t feeling right.

“I hope your second line will stop in your neck pal, and if you wish for company better speak roman when in rome.” A punk defended.

While this was on, the man on the center was all thinking and maybe calculating about this visitor, he grew red and then asked him to join them. It was going dark and I thought my silence tonight was being too much expensive.

“let me correct you young man, I am 44 next Friday, and if you have ears or heart methinks you are welcomed.”

Wars are always bad, but if its between ideas, its more disastrous than between guns. This two heroes from their own untold stories began talking and later shouting at each others when their ideas and views seemed to contradict.

One speaking louder then another and then louder and louder it went, both blind and confident.

Nobody liked the visitor the way he was treating and mocking our man. Everyone around started eyeing  him. Even I was making my fist ready.

It was too dark and too intolerable to me that I acted once and for last,

I went right into the center and looked at him.

“ Dad, this much is okay for tonight. Keep some for next week” 

“and yes, mr young or mr nobody whatever you are, you think you outrun my dad,

Explain him what pleasure is, and without words”

Everybody laughed and we returned home.