culture · · 1 min read

Brandy Alexander

instead of the Brandy Alexander, he had anticipated, out of sheer schoolboy spite, he made himself a straight bourbon.

Brandy Alexander

In his penthouse overlooking the city, Pervis Reid stared into the lights of the symphony hall, at a faraway distance.

He wondered if Dr. Selig would remember his condition and bring the medicine he had promised.

Pervis walked back inside, with his chin held between his fore finger and thumb.

The crisp February air was chilling in no time flat, in just a lounging suit.

He hugged his body with his other arm.

Stella was lying on the couch, but she wasn’t relaxed.

She had a pensive look on her face.

It was P.R. that was working her.

As she reflected on all the painful days in the past and projected on those to come, Pervis walked over and sat down on the couch beside her, stroked her hair, gave her a silly crooked smile, and picked up and went on over to the bar.

He asked Stella if she wanted anything to drink, and she only replied with “P.R. you know what the doctor said about too much drinking, now cut it out!”

Pervis was irritated by the admonishment, and instead of the Brandy Alexander he had anticipated, out of sheer schoolboy spite, he made himself a straight bourbon.

Stella’s nostrils flared, and her thick lips thinned.

“Damn fool”, she thought,

“He wants to die.”

She just sat back and shook her head.

Pervis was belting down his third jolt, and he was starting to feel pretty good now.

The room brought his legs up sideways, on both sides.

He grabbed the edge of the bar to steady himself.

The headaches were coming again, but this time they were much more painful. It was like someone had a band on his head.

- C.R.G.

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