80. No Problem So Bad

The next day I saw Jameston sitting on the bench at the end of the parking lot. When I got closer, I noticed a cut above his right eye. Two neatly folded but blood-stained handkerchiefs sat on the bench beside him.

“The doctor gave me these,” Jameston said. He pulled a bottle of Xanax bars from his shirt pocket. “You’re not supposed to mix them with alcohol, but after I took a couple, a glass of wine seemed like a good idea. I thought life couldn’t get any worse.”

“What happened?” I asked, a sense of sadness and dread washing over me.

We were interrupted by car horns on Route 19. “Yesterday, after my wife and I met with the divorce attorneys, I had an appointment with a neurologist.” He dabbed at the cut with another hanky.  “My wife had accused me of being a control freak.  The universe heard, and laughed. I’m about to lose control, of my muscles at least. The neurologist told me I have ALS.”

A police car pulled up. Before the officer said anything, Jameston stood up, said, “My ride to jail is here,” and walked over to the police car. “It’s my car wrapped around the street sign,” he added, gesturing toward the highway.

Today I will remember the slogan:
There is no problem so bad a drink cannot make it worse.

Time for a Change ©2017 by Ken Montrose

Time for a Change is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: www.greenbriartraining.com

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