There´s a bar next to the local grocery store.
I´ve been in there a couple of times. It´s the worst dive bar you ever seen.
The sofas are in a weird grey/red pattern that most resembles meat being out in the sun for a week.
The clientele has seen better days. You can feel a whole spectrum of dysfunction distributed around the locale. I found myself thinking of Brueghel or Hieronymus Bosch while sitting there. Just shittier, smellier, infected, more pus-filled-open-sored.
It smells vaguely of piss. You never know if you are sitting on the dodgy side of the sofa.
Sometimes going into the grocery store I think I could just drop it all and enter the bar.
I would probably get a bunch of friends real quick.
I can sing real well. People in dive bars like that. If they got karaoke, that is.
I could drink up whatever money I would have on my account.
Then I would drink up whatever is on my credit card.
Then I would call a family member or an old friend.
I would cook up some story about some emergency involving family, a fire, costly treatments, spontaneous orphans in faraway countries that has to be taken in.
I would lie, plead to them and tug at their heartstrings.
Then they would put more money on my account.
I would buy drinks for everyone.
I would be friends with everyone in there.
We would get plastered, bawl, fight, scream, puke, make out and confess murders while mortgages, friends, jobs and families would live their own lives, wither, die and curse my name on the outside.
Then I buy my groceries.