by Dominik Slusarczyk



            The gin tastes old. I down it anyway. I’ve got to get drunk: the drinks in the club will be incredibly expensive and we’re going to be there until four in the morning. If I drink lots now I won’t need to buy any drinks for the first couple of hours.

            I decide to search for my hipflask again. If I can find that I can get some alcohol into the club. I might not have to buy any drinks all night. Think how much money I’d save. I’d have a deposit for a house in no time.

            I search my room and the living room but I can’t find the hipflask anywhere. I must’ve taken it on a night out and lost it. It is probably in a bin somewhere in town.

            I give up and sit down on the sofa with another gin in my hand. Tonight is going to be good. The music is going to be amazing. When I saw the line-up I knew I had to go. I thought I would regret it if I didn’t go. Now the night has come I regret agreeing to go a little. I seem to find a reason to go out every weekend. If I keep going out I’ll be poor for my whole life.


            The bass is so loud the floor vibrates every time it sounds. The massive speakers to the side of the stage are constantly jumping up and down. They are tied down with some thick rope. I stare at them and hope that that rope is strong.

            I down the rest of the vodka and coke then I chuck the glass onto the ground. Someone else will deal with that.

            I stumble to the toilet. Maybe that’s where my friends are. I haven’t seen any of them in hours.

            After I have used the toilet I go to the bar again. I might get a beer this time. Beer lasts longer so it is surely more cost effective. I have never much liked the taste of beer, though. It tastes like dirty washing.

            I end up getting a cider. As soon as I am back on the dancefloor I spot one of my friends. He is passed out on the floor in the corner of the room.


            The second I wake up I regret drinking. My head is pounding. My mouth is dry. My feet hurt and my legs hurt.

            I get out of bed and stretch. I don’t remember much but I know I had a good time. I imagine I made some new friends. I probably spent hours chatting to some old ones. There would’ve been many drinks.

            I go down to the living room and lie down on the sofa. I check my bank balance on my phone. There is nothing left. There is never anything left. Payday is Monday and they’ll pay me just enough to last the month like they always do. They make millions. They only give me enough to buy a couple of drinks.


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