Not Drunk

Sad to say, I’m probably not drunk enough to say something I might regret later. I have this resistance to alcohol and it’s a curse. Oh, if only I could chemically unwind.

I’ve tried everything: sniffing glue, pot brownies, uppers, downers, quaaludes and buckets of hot fully caffeinated coffee. Nothing. Sober as a brick.

In college, I used (some might say abused) all that stuff and had a great time. Between the self-medicating, long bull-session dorm discussions and irresponsible wanton sex, life was good. “Albert,” I said to myself. “I want this to go on forever.”

Well, you know how it goes. One day the fog lifted. I’d graduated. After struggling for eight months, I got a dismal job. Needed the alcohol, drugs and caffeine more than ever. I partook. Which was convenient because I was a barista at Starbucks. Thank you, expensive Bachelor of Arts!

But it didn’t work. After years of glorious substance abuse, I’d developed an unfortunate immunity to all of it.

So, I’m at Starbucks, ingesting large quantities of caffeine in desperation, and getting nothing from it. While working there, I met the woman I wanted to marry but, of course, between us there was no chemistry.

So, about a week ago, I found myself at this odd specialty foods store and saw this vial of stuff. It said “Atomic Flavoring.” At first I though it was some kind of fancy hot sauce. But the label said “hypergolic rocket fuel additive.” It also said “great in coffee!”

So I tried it. The stuff is strong. It should kill me, but instead I’m soaring again. At last.