There’d been no other reason to get wasted other than we were brothers and it was Saturday. By midnight we were gargling cheap wine and the walls had rushed away. Seven sheets blew in the wind we sailed steamrollers in the neighbour’s garden – laughing at the trains that peered through the cracks in the fence.
Later we sprawled on the floor – giggling at the things stuck to the ceiling with tape. When the first plate fell and shattered we swept the remains under the armchair. By the time the mist crept up from the river we were asleep.
When the Sunday morning sun drilled in through the slit window it smiled. I pulled the curtains closed and slept some more.
- Benjamin F Jones
we were gargling cheap wine and the walls had rushed away.
A very well written piece. I like how you weave the idiom “seven sheets to the wind” into the prose.
These days, if I have cheap wine it makes me feel ill long before the laughter might have kicked in.
Yes – they were wild times in my youth. You are right – now I would moderate myself to one glass – which I would fail to finish – sleep badly as a result and wake up with a hangover.
And thank you very much for the compliments.
Love this one
A
Thank you very much. Hope you are well.