Early morning gloom blocked up most of the light, but through the shadows I could see two other figures in the bar with me. One, a large man in a suit far too small for him, was combing his hair obsessively, using the back of a spoon to style it. His breakfast drinking companion, a 5-foot tall Chinese version of Sylvester Stallone, was reading the cocktail menu and tutting in contemplation.
Time passed as I watched the unlikely pair order something, then settle back to wait. After more of the aforementioned time passed, the suited man turned and caught my eye.
"We're not together!" He yelled out, panicked.
I smiled politely. I couldn't care less.
"And we don't drink this early!" He continued. "It's just that our coffee machine is broken, and raccoons stole our cereal!"
I continued to smile politely, turning my straw this way and that as I drank my bucket of vodka.
"We're not homosexuals!" He yelled, determined to make the point.
I smiled some more. As long as they weren't owl rapists, I didn't bother me.
Chinese Sly looked up in confusion.
"I am." He said at length.
"What? You never said!" Yelled the suited man, evidently scared that he might have caught something from sharing his breakfast with a gay man.
"I thought this was a date." Chinese Sly mumbled sadly.
I continued to watch the drama play out in front of me. After a while, the pair left awkwardly. When they were out of sight, I scurried over to their table and began to nibble at the crumbs of food they'd left behind.
Don't judge me, a bucket of vodka a day is an expensive habit you know. I've got to make savings where I can.
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