Cliffhanger

      I gotta tell you. I’ve done some stupid shit in my lifetime. Especially if alcohol was involved. I’m not going to candy coat it, people. I’m a full-fledge alcoholic. I use that terminology because I don’t bullshit myself. I haven’t had a drink in a year, and a half. But I’m still an alcoholic. The disease doesn’t magically go away.    
   
      I know some people prefer the term, recovering alcoholic. I despise it. Mainly because I’m always just one drink away from starting again. I don’t participate, or partake any longer. But at the end of the day, I’m not cured.    
   
      I’ve woken up in the middle of the night after having a bad dream. That I went on a bender that ended my sobriety. What made it feel even more real was I could taste the booze. I could smell it deep in my nostrils. The guilt that overwhelms me inside. It’s like being gut punched every time. Usually takes me a few minutes to realize it was a nightmare.  
   
      One of my worst examples of having no control. Happened back in the early 2000’s. I was over at a buddy of mine’s house. I think we was recording in his little studio. Which happened to be in an apartment building. This has bad vibes all over, just talking about it.  
   
      It started out alright. The song had already been tracked. The guitar, bass, and drums were already recorded. When I arrived he had just laid the vocal down. So we were listening to the playback to see if the vocal was a keeper. It was cool, and sounded great. We’re as happy as two motherfuckers can be.    
   
      Celebratory drinks were a must. Two shots of bourbon, and a beer chaser. We both light a cigarette while having another listen. Both of us are over the moon. We might finish this song tonight.  
   
      I had co-written the lyrics on this number. Plus, I was supposed to put down some backing death growls. Any of you metal heads out there will know what I’m talking about. I was already figured in to be on the track. So were ahead of schedule.  
   
      So we were discussing what parts he wanted growls on. When we hear a knock on the door. Turns out one of our mutual friends decided to drop by, unannounced. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy he really is. He’s just always had shitty timing.    
   
      This weekend was about getting the song done. If we had extra time we might hang out some. Watch a movie, listen to music, tell some stories. But the song was top priority.    
   
      Well it’s simple to say, this threw a monkey-wrench in our plan. With him there, no music was getting done. He was raining on our parade. Being a non-creative anchor. Dragging us down into some meandering rabbit hole of misfortune.  
   
      So, I in typical alcoholic fashion decide I’m gonna start drinking heavily. I have never needed a reason to have a drink, people. I’m also the guy who makes everything a reason to have a drink. So this situation has become a no-brainer.    
   
      I should explain that even though this guy was a mutual friend. My buddy has known him longer. There friendship goes all the way back to high school. I’ve only known him since I’ve known my buddy. Which at this point in time was roughly 10 years. So I know my buddy is not going to tell him, this isn’t a good time for a visit. Which translates to he’s going to be here all night. And possibly till the wee hours of the morning.  
   
      I pick up my buddies guitar. While holding an unlit cigarette between my lips, I start finger-tapping on the strings. In the style of, Edward Van Halen. Not that I was great at it like he was. It was the only thing I could mimic on a guitar. I sure as hell couldn’t play the damn thing.  
   
      To make a long story short. I know we’re way past that. I get caught up in telling a story. I have to go around my elbow just to get to my wrist. That’s who I am, folks. It’s my style I guess.  
   
      By the shank of the moonlight I’m totally shitfaced. So I decide I’m crashing on his couch. I tell them both I’m going to sleep.    
   
      I had a ritual at this point in my life. I would get under the covers, then put the ashtray on my chest, and have one last cigarette before retiring off to slumberland. I had been doing this for all 12 years I’d been smoking to this point.  
   
      Let’s just say all I remember about this moment in time is simply this. I lit the cigarette, took a drag or two, then nothingness. Totally blank, until I wake up at noon the next day.  
   
       Waking up on the other hand. Well that’s something I can never forget. As I’m coming to, now mind you I haven’t opened my eyes yet. I’m feeling around my pillow while slowly moving my hands down the rest of the couch around me. When I notice a hole in the material that wasn’t there when I went to sleep. I’ve felt this material before, it feels like foam. I open my eyes to examine my surroundings. How do I even put this.  
   
      Have you ever seen one of those old movies that happens to have a crime-scene in it, where the victim has a chalk outline around their body?    
   
      Well I had one of outlines around me. Except it was burnt into the couch. Ashes and soot, covered my hands. All I was able to formulate about the experience was, I fell asleep with a lit cigarette. It’s the only thing that made sense.    
   
      I wasn’t burnt at all. I had some yellowish stains on my skin. I don’t know how I cheated death. Or at the very least didn’t have severe burns all over my body. I had questions that needed answers. I needed someone who could possibly fill in the blanks. I had to wait for my friend to wake up to find out those details. The worst was yet to come.  
   
      Well dear readers. I’m gonna stop here for now. Hate to leave you on a cliffhanger. Let me see in the comments who wants to hear more..