Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005

A Glancing Blow

Late Monday afternoon I was struck in the head by a boulder. Actually, it was just a marvelous idea that bowled me over with overwhelming force.

I would hold a funeral party for Hunter S. Thompson. Immediately. I asked my boss for the day off work on Tuesday. "Why, what's up?"

"One of my heroes has died, and in honor of him, I must gather a few likeminded individuals and drink lots of whiskey."

He arched his eyebrow, looked sidelong at my other boss, and said, "Sure. Do what you feel is important. Who died?"

I quickly explained a man that cannot be quickly explained. Nothing seemed to get through until the part about the suicide. I work for good people. People that will give me a vacation day on very short notice for the express purpose of drinking whiskey on a Monday night.

I left the office and procured a modest quantity of cocaine. I told myself it was necessary to consume something illegal for this occasion, and I swore off marijuana consumption over a month ago. It went out the door with the cigarettes. Hallucinogens have been horribly unreliable to me for the past three years, so I wouldn't risk them being bunk or poison. Cocaine was the clear winner.

My small gathering of five proceeded to sniffle and quaff. The case of beer was gone in a little over an hour. The whiskey bottle died a noble death at about 3am. Nobody but me had the constitution or stomach steel for straight up Jim Beam, but I was not deterred. I finished it and belched with pride.

Passages were read from Kingdom Of Fear and from both books of letters. My former roomie even convinced me to record myself reading from this very online journal. I didn't like the results. He did. Blackmail will surely ensue.

Now I'm back at work, bright, chipper, and mumbling through celery and carrots liberally splashed in spicy peanut sauce. Life is good. Adios, Doctor.
9:38 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


February 23, 2005 10:58 AM, Blogger Other Brother said...

A fitting tribute to a legend. I watched Fear and Loathing with the neighbor and drank Kentucky Deluxe. No drugs could be obtained, perhaps this weekend...

February 23, 2005 11:30 AM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

well, since you mentioned it, the smoke and i have been up since yesterday morning as well, albeit sans cocaine.

February 23, 2005 11:46 AM, Blogger Saucy Monk said...

I just can't believe they gave you the day off to do cocaine and Jim Bean in honor of Hunter S.
You sure you didn't tell yer boss it was your 'grandmother'?

February 23, 2005 12:45 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Saucy Monk, I did not mention the cocaine! Just the booze. I'm only crass enough to blog about it, not to flaunt it to my coworkers and superiors.

However, upon interviewing here, I was told that if I could pass a drug test they wouldn't want me.

You heard right. Also during my interview, I was related a story about a certain field installer that was sent to Kansas for a job.

He disappeared. We sent somebody else to do the install. He finally called in after three days to let us know the aliens had dropped him off in Kentucky.

He still works for us. I hear he has his alcoholism under control, but his nose still looks pretty red to me.

We're a small, tight-knit bunch here and we are all very flexible when it comes to one another's foibles.

Whiskey is really no big deal. They jokingly asked about my Tuesday hangover upon my arrival today.

February 23, 2005 1:03 PM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

steve, did you get your wristband so you can get Cubs tickets tomorrow?

February 23, 2005 1:38 PM, Blogger sCruuw said...

Best I could do was some codene....ain't so bad in a pinch

February 23, 2005 2:19 PM, Blogger Bookfraud said...

A gonzo tribute to the godfather of gonzo. Well done, rocket. HST himself would have been proud to have penned it.


Post a Comment

left-arrow Home

Rest In Peace, Doctor
How's My Driving?
Now I Can Whistle
Fast Food Means Fast Digestion
Newports and Milkbones
Mudflap Welcome Mat
From The Museum
From Me To You With Gut-Wrenching Terror
Hot Shot Jet Set Weekend
Past My Bedtime
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
August 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
February 2008
May 2008
August 2008
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
December 2009
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
August 2010
August 2011
September 2011
February 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
October 2012
November 2012
May 2013
August 2013
September 2013
December 2013
May 2014
October 2014
November 2014
December 2016