Tell Me About It
At the bottom of his fifth glass, he found God, floating in the bronze opacity of his final whisky.
This filled him with relief. He hadn't experienced faith in the longest time. And there God was, at the bottom of his glass!
Quite suddenly, the bartender was pulling away his glass...pulling away God! He opened his mouth, babbling something about the loss of multitheism and the white man.
But puked instead.
They say that there's a hole in the atmosphere
The things you think will last disappear
When you were ready to say I do
Somebody lowered the boom on you
Now you need a sympathetic ear
At the bottom of her fifth vodka, she saw Death, dancing on the cranberry-pink surface.
Dread screamed through her; an obvious lesson about the worst sort of abuse one can heap upon one's own body. Luanne was right; she should have stopped drinking. Should've paid attention to her own daughter.
When the sixth glass came, her mind changed. It wasn't death, it was mercy.
At that point, some jerk tossed his cookies into her new purse.
Love isn't always true it hurts sometimes
Your tears will tell on you girl, I'm not blind
I know what you're goin' through
I graduated from that school too
If you need a shoulder cry on mine
She picked him up out of his own filth and smiled. "You're kinda cute."
Through the haze of alcohol, he remembered the woman's voice. "Leanne Platter?"
"Do I know you, Sugar?"
Presented with a choice between a lie and the truth, he invariably chose the lie. "No. Nice shirt."
You took a lesson in playin' a fool
I graduated from that school too
If you need a shoulder cry on mine
She smoked cigarettes that made him nothing but dizzier, but he pretended to listen to her talk. If he squinted hard enough, she reminded him of Nancy, after all, and the foot she pressed to his left thigh seemed to balance him back on the barstool.
"Are you doin' anything tonight, sugar?"
He knew too well the press of a woman's hand to his chest, the way they flutter their lashes and press their cases. She smelled so much like Nancy...
"No."
Her hand tightens possessively against his arm, and her snakelike smile makes her seem animalistic. A thrill chases through him, and they begin their romantic lives anew.
Tell me about it
Tell me about teardrops in the dark
Tell me about it
Tell me about your broken heart
You say you need someone to hold you tight
(You) can't stand another lonely night
Well come closer and
Tell me about it
On the streets of Texas, they sway to their car, loaded down with beer and compliments. When he wakes in the morning, he'll pretend she's Nancy, and she will pretend that she doesn't drink too much.