Tiffany: Thank you for your story, Walter. Who's next?

The scene opens in the same church that we left off in last Tuesday. We're here in the First Baptist Church in Dorchester, Massachusetts. Lonely, lost alcoholics sit in a circle in the basement, lamenting about their troubles, their livers clenching at the mere mention of alcohol, playing an anatomical tug of war with each of their feeble, soon-to-be-diseased hearts. Tiffany, the head of Alcoholics Anonymous: Dorchester, leads the group through the motions, passing from participant to participant so they can tell a similar, sad tale.

George had an issue with whiskey that tore his children away from him in a messy divorce!

Mary couldn't take her kids to school due to her dependence on four morning vodka and tonics!

Troy beat his wife and was hit with a restraining order!

And then, there was Tony Santos...

Santos: I've got next.

In stumbles Tony Santos, fumbling down the stairs as he recovers from a multiple-day-long bender. Twirling around the doorway, Tony grasps the wood paneling holding him up from one side, all while leaning up against the door frame on the other. Dressed in black khakis and a blue buttoned-down shirt, Tony is attempting to give his best. Unfortunately, Tony's best involves an untucked, partially ironed shirt, khakis that are tight around the thighs, and a belt that hangs limp from his scrawny waist. Thankfully, his hair can't necessarily be unkempt when it's too short to truly move. However, a cowlick appears from behind, which Tony realizes exists, and which he hastily attempted to cover up with a slick lick to his palm, followed by a swipe of his head. No luck.

Santos: My liver. Folks, you don't even understand. I like to think that I have the liver of a god, but in all honesty... god damn it, in all honesty, I have the liver of a Cirrhosis victim. A 26-year-old, glorified, Cirrhosis victim. My name is Sullivan, and my body is breaking down in front of me.

Mary, the 40ish-year-old barista at the Flat Black Coffee Company in downtown Boston, has been watching Tony with a mix of disappointment and concern. Mary, an alcoholic since her early-30s, understands the destruction that is caused by reckless self-abandon. For her, a child only added to the problems. She realized early on that alcohol only compounds life issues, while also blurring the boundaries of decency that should exist. Watching another naive idiot make the same mistakes she make, all while in a very public forum, was disheartening.

Mary: I'm sorry to hear that, Sullivan. What's your deal? Why the issues? What problems do you face that adults with children and baggage face? I'm curious, Sullivan.

Tony smiles as he stumbles in to the meeting. Making his way through the doorway, Tony strokes his hair like he still has the long, brown locks that made him matter when he first started. Looking left, then looking right, Tony smiles at his fellow alcoholics, his gap tooth showing. He sticks his tongue out through the gap, straightening his shirt and jabbing his hands in his pockets. Moving towards the center of the room, Tony plants himself in the middle of the circle. Dropping himself down in to an Indian-style sitting position, he clasps his knees with his palms, then stares straight ahead.

Sa/ntos: Fellow alcoholics. My fellow alcoholics. You're like brothers to me. You're like sisters to me. We all face the same troubles. We all face the same issues. Our brains rattle together. Our worlds spin together. Our lives fall apart together. We're broken messes; torn souls. Human beings who can't live without one another's sadness. We're broken souls. You dream of Jim Beam. I dream of Harpoon IPAs. My gut punches me in the... well... gut, in disagreement. You sit here, hoping for people to console you. I sit here, hoping for people to pity me. You present yourselves like the fragile pieces of skin you are, while I present myself like the vulnerable, yet uncaring, bit of shit that I am.

Oh, alcoholics. What do you do, Mary? You, Troy? George? Are you yearning for your kids?

I'm yearning for the same. Not a new beginning. Not some semblance of what I've known before. The same. I want...

The same. I want to torture this earth. I want to bring you all down with me in the fire of mediocrity. I won't kid about my worth on this planet.

Theo Pryce might. He's the head of Pryce Industries

Steve Davids might give it a shot...

No he won't. Steve Davids has no chance. Steve Davids exclaimed about how lacking in confidence he is. Steve Davids understands how futile his attempt at victory is. Steve Davids has quit before he even tried. Steve Davids...

is dead.

Theo Pryce is next.

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion