The Drunk

Short Story Day 12 of 365

George hadn’t rinsed off the soap from his car when a man stumbled out the basement door and down the four steps to the garage floor.

“Hey,” he said as he swayed side to side. “I, I got something to say to you.” He blinked a thousand times. It’s a good thing they weren’t near flammable material lest his breath blow them both up.

“What’s that?” George asked.

“If you really wanna finish warshing your car first, you really should try the new shtick product I saw t’other day. It had a looong mop handle and will clean the entire top of the car with a stroke or or or two. I don’t ‘member what it’s called, buuut...”

He looked away and jiggled his car keys.

George thought, “I seriously hope he’s not thinking about taking his car out in his condition.”

“Yeah, I have heard of that,” George said. “It’s called The-Long-Stick-Clean-the-Car thingy.”

“Heh heh. You’re messing with me now, Bud.”

“No sir. I’ve seen it on Planet Saturn, just between the middle and inner ring. Or was it the middle and outer ring? No no, that was the Left-Handed-Hickory-Smoke-Turner between the middle and inner ring.”

“I don’t like that. You’re an idiot, you know that?” The words he used to describe George after that weren’t fit for public consumption.

The door opened. The timing was perfect.

“I ain’t gonna buy no Long-Stick-Clean-the-Car Thing from no Planet Saturn or whatever you call it. And what was the stupid thing about a smoke turner?”

“Dad!”

He turned. “Oh, hi baby doll. This idiot of a gennelman here…”

She interrupted. “Dad, leave the man alone. He wants to finish washing his car.”

“But but…”

They walked to her car arm in arm.

She turned around and mouthed the word, “Sorry.”

George waved it off.

If the old guy would’ve stayed a bit, George could have told him about a few more products he knew about that would just knock his socks off.