Charlie (My 1st Short Story)

14 Jul

So my roomie mentioned me helping him write a book, which of course inspired me to write a short story… Guess it’s how my brain works 🙂


“Hi, my name is Charlie. I’m a recovering alcoholic.”

“Hi Charlie!”

“And I’ve been sober for two months.”

Ok, I should probably start by saying, no my name is not Charlie. It’s Charles. I hate Charles and I hate my parents for naming me Charles. I can’t blame them for not being smart enough to figure out that Charles equals nicknames like Chuck or Up-Chuck. Needless to say, elementary school wasn’t the greatest experience for me.

I should probably also mention, although I am a recovering alcoholic, I am not standing in front of an AA meeting. I don’t think I need a group of people shouting my name to make me stop drinking. I don’t like people much anyway. It’s better this way. I won’t have to go out, waste gas, pass 10 bars to get to an AA meeting full of people I can’t stand, that are all feel-sorry-for-me type of assholes that not only want to feel sorry for themselves, but also sorry for each other.

I recently gave “dating” a try again. I joined one of those, I promise I’m not pathetic or looking for just a good lay, type of online dating sites. I don’t have much money so I joined a free one. After the first date with a girl who looked nothing like her profile picture, and not in a good way, I decided that I would need to date many more to find true love. Ok, I don’t care much for love. I don’t understand it. I don’t really want it, but all the other idiots in my life seem happy with it and are constantly bringing me down, well further down, for not having it.

Each date was worse then the last. From bad breath to bad hair, I’m not perfect in the least, but really? Do you give so little of a shit about yourself, that you don’t even brush your teeth before you go on this date with the potential man of your dreams?

I believe we are getting a bit off topic, but I would like to just say that my left hand and even sometimes my right make a way better date then anyone I met in the 2 months I tried the “love thing” on for size. My hands don’t nag me for not doing the laundry, for not doing the dishes, and they certainly don’t care if I vacuum. Now I can imagine that you are thinking really shitty thoughts about me right now. You are thinking this person is a psychological freak of nature who hates all people, places and things. You may be on to something.

So about this alcoholic thing, which all began with a dating website, when asked, “Do you drink?” Do you know what the responses are? Never (0 drinks), socially (1-3 drinks a week) or frequently (3 or more drinks a week). So basically after an entire adulthood I have come to the realization that if I lie on the dating site, just as I lie to my doctor, then I’m admitting that I have a problem and if I tell the truth on the dating site, then I’m admitting to the world that I have a problem. I decided to lie about that. I also lied about a few other little details. I wonder if I also look nothing like my profile picture, and not in a good way.

So after the last date, with the last girl, and no I didn’t kill her and bury her in the backyard. I know it’s what you’re thinking. I decided I needed to fix this drinking problem. A beer a night is apparently a drinking problem now. First you should drink a glass of wine a day, then not so much wine a day. Then eat eggs, don’t eat eggs, how about eat the white part of the egg, but not the yellow part of the egg. Is there some guy doing studies out there, laughing his ass off at fools like me that actually try to keep track of all the ways to live a long and healthy, oh and don’t forget happy life?

On the note of happy life, there is no way that praying to a fat Asian dude is going to make me happy and in tune with my inner smile. I’m just not that guy. Life threw me a lot of stones, actually life aimed right for my forehead when throwing those stones, which I think is just rude. Or is it just karma? Did I really piss some god up there off so bad that he has spent the past 35 years, personally screwing up the one chance I have at breathing and eating and sleeping my life away. Why is it so important for me to be happy? Am I really hurting the ones around me? Well that just can’t be, because no one comes around me.

I believe we are off topic again. Let’s get back to my raging-one-beer-a-day alcoholism. I wonder if I actually showed up to an AA meeting if they would turn me away. I could think of many reasons why a group of people may ask me to leave. Maybe they would turn me away because I don’t think I’m an alcoholic. Maybe because I hate all of them and wish they would walk one by one in front of a train for judging me. Don’t even get me started about those phony smiles. Maybe they would kick me out because I’m really not an alcoholic or because my negativity would just make those around me want to drink. I wonder if they have free snacks and coffee in the back of the room, just like in the movies.

You know… I think I’m going to go crack open a beer, grab a movie, watch some porn and go on the best date of my life. Hello lefty (sometimes I like nicknames).

1 Comment

Posted by on July 14, 2010 in Uncategorized


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One response to “Charlie (My 1st Short Story)

  1. Jingle

    July 14, 2010 at 7:08 pm

    way to go, another talent to share here,


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