Day 124 – Change – Short Story

His sits, staring at the four glasses in front of him and blinks his eyes several times before reaching out in an attempt to pick one of them up, he fails miserably and crashes to the floor in a heap.

“Shows over Macready, go home!” A voice says from above him, he slowly and awkwardly pulls himself to his feet using the stool and the bar, he looks at the barman and sways from side to side, trying to focus his vision on him.

“Fuck you Joe, I’m still good,” he slurs.

“Bullshit, that’s the second time in the last five minutes you’ve pancaked on the floor,  go home, Cathy’s going to be pissed at you already, don’t make it any worse than it is.”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me, don’t act like some high and mighty son of a bitch, if you won’t serve me I’ll find somewhere else that will.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overdramatic, he’s just trying to help,” a husky voice whispers in his ear, he spins around in a volatile loop, searching the room through half closed eyes for the owner of the voice.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He yells to the near empty room, he feels hands tightly grip his shoulders and is shoved forward.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t bother showing your face around here for a while, or next time, I’ll do more than ruffle you clothes you little prick,” he says as Macready is pushed through the doorway and crashes into the footpath outside, he scrambles to his feet like a baby giraffe first learning to walk, the footpath lashes out at him violently, and smashes him in the face. It’s a few moments later that he once again tries to pick himself up from the ground, this time, with more grace, he steadies himself with the side of the building and grips his side, as a sharp shot of pain rips though him, he lunges forward and vomits five hours’ worth of alcohol into the gutter, and awkwardly wipes his mouth with his jackets sleeve.

“Fucking cunts!” he mumbles underneath his breath as he takes an uneasy step forwards.

“Your pathetic,” a voice hisses into his ear, he spins around in fright, but once again, there is no one there.

“Who the fuck are you?” He yells as he continues to spin uncontrollably around on the spot, until he crashes into the wall, and once more to the footpath, when he finally opens his eyes he finds himself tightly bound to a chain in a dark, cold room, instantly he struggles for freedom, his heart racing in panic, and then he notices he is not alone, as a figure hides in the darkness.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” He yells.

“I don’t want anything from you, you pathetic piece of shit, and who I am, well,” he says as he walks out of the shadows, Macready’s jaw drops open and his eyes widen, as he stares at himself. “I’m you, or, in a few moments, I will be.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

He laughs as he grabs Macready by the hair and shakes his head vigorously back and forth.

“I’m your replacement Simon, seems you’ve worn out your welcome, and it’s time for a change.”

“What? What are you talking about? What’s fucking going on?”

He laughs again and smiles, a wide, toothy smile, “Don’t worry sugar puff, neither of us will remember this in the morning, and by neither of us, I mean me, because you’ll be nothing but a serious of mistakes that I will atone for, it’s how it works, change for the better and all that.”



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