A, B, C?

ABC’s. Simple enough right? Learned them in what, kindergarten, 1st grade. 20 years I’ve known them, sang them and at this moment I can’t tell if g or f comes first and lmnop is a single letter to me. I know why, because I’ve been drinking for 6 hours straight and apparently alcohol cancels out years of schooling. Gotta hand it to you Jack, you sure know how to erase everything I’ve ever known before tonight. And even parts of tonight to be honest.
“Officer, I don’t see how singing you a song has to do with my driving abilities. I’d like to hear you sing it before you get in your car.”
Bad move. Bad move. He’s coming towards me and doesn’t look happy.
“Fuck!” Did I just say that out loud?
Officer, “Excuse me son. What did you just say?”
Shit I did.
“Oh, I’m sorry officer. I didn’t mean to say that. I was only thinking it. Didn’t mean for it to come out.” Yeah keep talking idiot! He wont give your stupid ass a ticket now moron. “What I meant was, I didn’t mean to say it to you Officer. Good man of the law.” Shut up! Shut up!
“Are you getting smart sonny?”
“No. No. I’m not getting smart. Quite the opposite. I’m an idiot. Sooo dumb.” Shut up! SHUT UP!! Stop it now! “I’m sorry. I’m done talking. Totally shutting up now Sir, Officer Sir.”
Thump! Getting thrown into the cop car. Nice. Just how I wanted my night to end. Why the fuck didn’t I just STOP talking! Lesson to remember, when talking to a police officer don’t act like a raging idiot Greg. Seriously, it won’t help my cause. Especially one I’m already losing.
I notice the clock as I’m being dragged through the station, 3:19 a.m. I have work at 9 a.m. I already know that’s not gonna happen. My cell is freezing and there are a few really questionable looking people. For a minute this shocks me but I remember I’m in jail, this is where they are suppose to be. My God, so many things can go wrong here, terribly wrong. Help!
I can’t go to sleep, one issue, the cement I’m laying on is as hard as well, cement, and it’s freezing in here. All I can do is think and that depresses me. I’m 25 years old, spending the night in jail next to a 40 something year old obese man that is sleeping in his own vomit. This is my Tuesday night. If this doesn’t make me want to just off myself I have no idea what will. Hey. I didn’t make a phone call! Who can I call? I can’t call my home, Loren will flip out. She already thinks the wedding is getting to me and this won’t help.
“You. Phone call time.” says a massive officer.
Damn! Not enough time to think about this. What am I gonna do? Fuck! Why did I not remember the alphabet?

Hope you enjoyed the story.
xo,
gabbie

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~ by jeanineandgabbie on October 22, 2010.

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