The Liquor Store

Mr. Daniels waits halfway down aisle three. Yet, he stands tall and proud. Waiting. Always waiting.

And, all the while Tom stands and watches. Tom is a haggard looking man, he looks about 65, but says he is fifty-two. “You know, I never saw myself here. Some things just happen I guess.”

“That’ll be $8.50,” Tom says to the customer as he puts a six pack of beer into a brown paper bag. “Its funny, alcohol ruined my life.” It really doesn’t seem that funny though.

“When I was 16 I had my first drink. My Dad was an alcoholic. Its like what they say, ‘Some people who’s parents are alcoholics never touch the bottle, some pick-up right where their parents left off.’ You would think that I would be the ladder. No. From 16 to 40, I never went one day, one single day, without a drink. My wife divorced me. We didn’t have any kids, but she still took the dog. I was more concerned with getting hammered than loving her. How stupid is that? Now I work in a liquor store. Funny. An alcoholic works in a liquor store, but doesn’t drink and of the liquor.”

“Funny,” Tom says, trailing off, then directing a customer to where he can find “fine wine for a dinner party.” “All the way in the back on the right side.”

“You know, a lot of times I just want to yell at the customers. I just want to scream at them and tell them, ‘You drink that bottle you’ll end up like me.’ And who would want this? I never say nothing though. I could lose my job.”

last - next