Bourbon, Oreos, and LSD

(a collaborative Prose tale, created as three simultaneous round robins)

by @MeeJong, @dustygee123, & @ChrisSadhill

The Beginning

It all started so innocuously.

Until you brought up the story about my Aunt Hilda.

That’s when it all went south.

I sought to steer the conversation in a new direction.

"So, what do you want for dinner?"

“I never planned for that, all I have are these Oreos,” she said.

“Dinner, first!” the parent in me blurted.

That pistol in my waistband was whispering my name.

After a moment I concluded I’d be better off waiting for that.

“I’ll go grab a pizza from that spot you like, then we’ll dig into the Oreos for dessert.”

I knew if I didn't step out the door, I was going to do something I couldn't take back.

So I walked out to order an Uber Eats and clear my devilish mind.

The devil was in full force tonight though, and the fresh air only brought fresh madness.

It was time to call that bastard in North Korea.

It was time to do what was promised.

Having made that decision, I came back inside and decided it was Oreo time.

The Middle

When I opened up the Oreo, it just didn't look right.

I licked it anyways.

I began to suspect you had tampered with it, but I had to be sure.

I knew right away when my tongue began to burn that I was about to go on a trip.

I wasn’t sure how long it would take, so I needed to get to a safe space.

I made the mistake of calling my Aunt Hilda.

I listened to her ramble on about the Korean War or something until it hit.

I was hearing the air distort around my ears and seeing particles of dust grow and then shrink again when the doorbell rang.

"Uber Eats!" I heard a young man say from the porch.

Who knew they delivered to the White House?

“Wrong house,” I growled in the direction of the door.

Where was a Chief of Staff when you needed one?

Hell, where is the White House Physician when you need him?

I opened the door to find myself face to face with the muzzle of a Colt .45.

I turned, grabbing the bourbon sitting on the side table, downing it, then throwing the glass into the face of the fake Uber driver, before grabbing the gun from my waistband.

The Ending

If I knew this was my fate, I would have planned better.

Perhaps I would have foregone that third bourbon.

Or at least left the pistol in the car.

Now I have to decide which one of my aunts I want to live, and which one will die.

No one expects to have a Sophie’s Choice moment on a Saturday night.

But then no one expected a broken businessman with a terrible toupee and a misogynistic demeanor to win the Presidency either.

Fuck it, I might as well pass the package around.

I downed a fourth bourbon and prayed that was the decision I would regret in the morning.

The Oreos I had for lunch seemed like they would at least be the second regrettable decision.

I felt around my waistband to prepare for the heat I was about to deliver.

I wished for the hundredth time Aunt Greta hadn’t come over.

"Greta," I said, "did I tell you about what happened to Hilda?"

“What do you mean?” she tilted her head with curiosity.

“She got in some trouble with the Mafia, and owes them serious money.”

"Shit. Order us a pizza, and you can tell me all about it."

I look down at my phone to pull up the app to order for the second time today.

“Ok, I am not really that Hungry, but what toppings would you like?”

I didn’t hear a response for a few moments.

Drawing my attention away from the phone, there was Greta pointing her compact pearl-gripped berretta straight at me.

This was a seriously bad trip.

“I want Pepperoni with a side of your head, extra cheese!” She smirked as she delivered a chunk of metal to my chest.

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