Drunk With My Dead Best Friends

“Who are your dead? Have them meet in a poem, even if they never met in life [they didn’t], and describe how they interact.”

-Kim Addonizio, The Poet’s Companion»

—

Sang was late. He got held up at the office, had to stop for cigarettes…

…and there was traffic.  Sorry.

Frank and I were on a third round. We were laughing through old stories.

…and that little blonde girl that you were in love with, what was her name?

Oh, I don’t know. I lit a cig. Jen, probably, I went through a Jen phase, remember?

He did. He laughed from his gut.

I shook my head, inhaled, held in my lungs, thought about the memory, and released the smoke in small spurts of laughter.

You used to call me Chucky Jenny Fucker, or something like that….

Frank almost spit up his vodka.

Uh uh, Bro! It was Charles J. Banger, Esq, but Chucky Jenny Fucker is so much funnier!

We burst into more tearful laughter, just as Sang arrived.

Oh, Sang! I was trying to stop laughing, trying to explain, but every time I started talking, Frank  would yell, “Chucky J. Fucker, Ph.D.” or “President Charlie JenBanger,” and I would convulse in drunken hysterics, again.

Sang stood silent, smoking, a wry smile on his face.

Um, hey, are you guys ok?

He started to laugh at how hysterically the two of us were laughing. I tried to explain.

Sang….hahaha younger….hahaha dated a lot of Jens…haha my Jen Phase…hahahaha and….

Sang immediately remembered “the Jens” he had met, and cackled through a puff of smoke…

HAHAHAHAHA! you named it your Jen Phase? HAhahahahaha. You’re an asshole! HAhahaha!

He sat down and ordered a drink.

Two hours later, after fully exploring my Jen Phase,  and concluding that Sang had never had two girlfriends with the same first name, we realized—to our increased hysterics—that Frank was one woman shy of having a MAUDE phase.

You dated TWO WOMEN named MAUDE? Sang was giggling. One more Maude, and I think you got yourself a Maude phase there… buddy…

We all roared and slammed the table. Sang was on his fifth rum and coke, I think. I lost count. By now, my left eye was permanently closed.

Chucky, why are you winking at me? What’s up? Frank was shaking me by the shoulders. Have another drink on me. Hahaha!

My face was flushed from alcohol and laughter. Frank was hammered and slurring a rebuttal in Sang’s direction.

Come on, MAN…the last Maude was fifteen years ago…the one before that was in grammar school….and…you’re trying to say…that…One More Maude… makes for a MAUDE PHASE?

I think so. Sang didn’t blink. He just smoked.

Frank paused. He seemed shocked. He fumbled with his drink. He took a sip. The ice rattled in the glass. He slammed the glass down.

Sang!! Cut me some fucking slack, man! Hahaha!!!!

Sang bellowed in smoky laughter. We all laughed harder, laughed louder. I could barely catch my breath. The room was spinning. The world was collapsing into peephole visions and sounds.

I could hear Frank qualifying.

I loved ..

But I couldn’t make out the rest. His slur was too thick. I was too drunk. I was slowly blacking out.

I could hear Sang’s voice—fading into the music—just before the blackness. He sounded like a sage, calmly expounding amidst the scary reality of no consciousness. His voice echoed down a long dark tunnel behind me.

Your life is rare and beautiful, man. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Everyone’s life is. The click of a cigarette lighter. An exhale of smoke. You should celebrate all your “phases.” You should perfect all your unique patterns.

Yeah, man, Frank kept repeating. Yeah.

Song: “So It Goes” by Tom Waits

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