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A report on some new hardware

Chicago Ted basically shamed me into buying a flask. (This is the second major favor he’s done me. The first was a free pack of Chinese cigarettes.)

I bought this one, and a funnel to go with it.

Now I drink every day, but I drink especially on Thursdays. So last night, despite that my evening was projected to take place entirely within my apartment, I filled the flask with Jack Daniel’s (don’t hurt me Ted, seriously – I’m a yankee and I don’t know no better). I then repaired to my stoop to draw pictures of my feet until I got too depressed and had to stop.

I drank happily from the flask, chasing it with Sapporo from a tall, sexy can. This liquor concealment was completely unnecessary, as my neighbors watch me drink daily, but I wanted to, you know, try it out.

Once I got too depressed with drawing my feet and had to stop, I pocketed the flask and went inside. And in my pocket the flask stayed, for several hours, as I completely forgot about it.

Around 10:30 my phone rang, and, impulsively, I headed to the East River for the conversation. I live in Queens, steps from the river, where the view of Manhattan is a romantic comedy waiting to happen.

On my way I passed three officers of the NYPD, anxiously conducting some kind of investigation. It involved their arguing over a map. I walked thirty feet up the sidewalk and settled against the railing, smoking and still on the phone. “Having a drink would be really great right about now,” I thought, as I turned to sit, and felt the flask in my pocket.

There was movement from the cops; I looked and they were staring past me, trying to make out some feature in the far distance. The flask’s true test had come.

I reached into my pocket and felt for the captive top. It was loosed with a quick spin. Staring down the police, I raised the flask and drank, wiped my mouth with the vessel still in hand, and replaced it in my pocket.

The cops turned back to their map.

Postscript: I’ve decided to name my new ninja hardware. I’m going to name it “Fuck The Pigs 666 Hail Satan.”

One Comment

  1. Chicago Ted wrote:

    Ain’t nothin wrong with some JD so long as you know the different between the Lincoln County Process and the requirements for Straight Bourbon Whiskey, then we’re good.

    Glad those Red Chinee smokes and the flask have been/are serving you well. Few things are more satisfying than drinking in public, in front of three cops and being goddamn classy while doing so.

    Friday, August 31, 2007 at 20:05:41 | Permalink