Drink Yourself Pretty!

It was a hard day at work, OK, so it was the worse day at work that I had experienced in the longest time! I was tired, dirty from trying to dig down around the foundation, and I was at my wits end with the delivery company’s lack of response to my endless phone calls to their office, in search of the cable wire that should have been delivered that morning. We all left work that afternoon, and headed to the local cantina we frequently went to at the end of our week. It was the middle of the week, but we were all frustrated from our hectic day, and I did not care if I still had on my work clothes, and had dirt from the top of my head, down to my boots. My husband sat up next to me with the rest of the crew, and Papa, who owned the cantina, poured me a drink in which I quickly tossed back, swallowing dirt in between swallows. Papa went in to the back room and brought out this dusty bottle he held hostage on some back shelf for the past decade, and told me as he was pouring me a glass full, that this magic liquid would make me feel better. I picked up the glass and in one gulp inhaled the entire glass of this magic liquid. Fire shot up from my stomach, through my wind pipes, and out my nose and ears like a dragon in some fairytale. Papa smiled at me, and my husband and the rest of the crew just laughed as my hearing was slowly returning to me. I felt this warm glow rush through me, and I wasn’t sure if it was the fire or if I was really starting to feel better, all I knew is I wanted to try it again, and Papa gladly refilled my glass. Each time I drank a glass of this magic liquid, my troubles from the day started to fade, and I forgot that I had dirt caked in my hair or that mud was smeared across my face like a kid at a playground. The laughter from the crew made me laugh too, and my husband just patted me on the back and kissed my cheek.


As my husband was driving home from the cantina, all I remembered was the rush of trees passing our SUV outside my window, and then I was puking in this dark hole, which turned out to be my husband lap. My husband got me out of the SUV and steered me toward the bedroom, and let me flop down on the bed. I started to giggle at him, remembering something funny someone had said at the cantina earlier that night. He just smiled at me, patted me on the head and told me he would be right back. I was a vixen to my husband, I could see it in his eyes, so as he was gone I decided to plop myself up on the pillows, unbutton my shirt some, and sit in my most sexy pose I could muster, then I passed out.

The next morning I heard this noise which seemed so distant, but as I raised my aching head I could see my husband standing by the bed fully dresses and a coffee in his hand. I immediately jumped realizing that I had passed out, and now the sun was up, confused I asked my husband what time it was and he informed me it was past the normal time I would have gotten up at to get ready for work. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked him. “Honey, you are not going to work today,” he replied. I sat there looking down for the first time at my clothes which I still had on from the day before, dirt all over them and now some kind of foreign object lay sprayed down the front of me. I put my hand up to my hair and it felt sticky and wildly all over the place as if the wind had blown it around me. My husband informed me that after I passed out in the bed when he left, I proceeded to puke two more times there where I lay propped against the pillows waiting for him to return the night before. He had left to clean the SUV, and when he returned he could not move me from my drunken stupor where I lay. So, he cleaned around me the best he could, and left me there to lay in my own mess and went and slept on the couch. I could feel my stomach rumbling again as I sit there looking around at the mess I made, and felt ashamed that I had made such a mess and forced my husband to sleep on the couch.

I didn’t understand, the night before I felt so good from that magic liquid Papa was feeding me on my empty stomach. I was laughing with everyone, and I felt so pretty in my husband’s eyes as he stood there smiling down on me, yet at that very moment with the stale smell of sour liquid rising up in my nose I didn’t feel so pretty. I had managed to take my dirty hard worked self from its pitiful state, to a state of sheer beauty in just a few drinks the night before, and now I sat there with my pounding head feeling like someone had beat me with an ugly stick. I had managed to drink myself pretty, but the ugly truth of it was, that pretty lay only in my own imagination enhanced from the magic liquid, and the reality of how I looked at that very moment was not so pretty!