Have you ever notice how some people take two shots of the hard stuff and suddenly think they?re the heavyweight champ of the fuckin planet?

Dead sober, this same guy wouldn?t say shit if you stuffed a sock in his mouth and told him it was cotton candy.

Passive as a house plant.

Apologizes when someone bumps into him.

Probably thanks doors for opening.

But add a couple shots?

Now he wants smokes from everybody.

It always starts at the house.

Pre drinking.

Pounding rum like it?s Kool Aid because the girlfriend?s dragging him to some social thing where you have to dress ?nice.?

You know the deal.

Bow tie.

??Shiny shoes.

Looking like a pissed off penguin that lost his ice floe.

She?s letting you pour another one, which you take as permission from God himself.

Big mistake.

You get to the restaurant and immediately eat shit on the two steps going into the dining room.

Nearly knock your teeth out on some poor woman?s chair.

Thank fuck drunk reflexes kick in, and you recover like a mongoose on cocaine.

You start muttering curses under your breath while the hostess leads you through the tight little runway between tables.

Apparently, that wasn?t under your breath at all.

Because now your girlfriend?s eyebrows are touching and she?s biting her lip like she?s about to backhand you into the fuckin coat rack.

Same look your mother used to give you at the convenience store when you were elbow deep in the candy rack pretending you didn?t know what she was thinking.

You look at her and say, ?WHAT??

Wrong answer.

They sit you by the window facing the entire restaurant.

Girlfriend directly across from you so she can monitor your dumb ass.

You flip through the menu looking for fish and chips while loudly bitching about prices like you?re about to negotiate with the chef.

That look again.

The one that says you belong bent over the hood of the car in the parking lot with a leather belt applied directly to your personality.

But then the waiter shows up.

?What would you like to drink??

You light up like Christmas morning.

?YEAH. Make it a double.?

Now you?re feeling yourself.

You start scanning the room.

And that?s when you see him.

Behind your girlfriend.

Some guy guaking at you.

You look away.

Immediately pissed off.

But like a bad car accident, you gotta look again.

YUP! Still guaking!

Now your ears are red.

Sweat beads rolling down your forehead.

Left eye twitching like it?s got a mind of its own.

Foot tapping the floor like a jackhammer through concrete.

This asshole with the penguin suit and the fucked up hair keeps staring at you every time you look.

Nobody at your table notices.

They think you?re just mad because your girlfriend told you to stop being obnoxious in front of everyone.

And you know damn well none of these people have your back if shit goes sideways.

So you do what drunk confidence tells you to do.

You explode.

Jump to your feet.

Chair flies across the room like you?re auditioning for the Ultimate Fighting Challenge.

???

You?re screaming, ?WHAT?S YOUR FUCKIN PROBLEM??

The room freezes.

And then you notice something horrifying.

That guy is doing the exact same thing.

Same timing.

Same movements.

Same idiot energy.

Because you weren?t staring at another guy.

You were staring at yourself.

Full-length mirror.

You just picked a fight with your own drunk ass.

No wonder he kept looking at you.

He was wondering what the fuck you were about to do.

Drink responsibly, boys.

Or at least don?t square up with mirrors.

?????????????...and that's callin' it like it is!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Canadian artist & digital troublemaker Colin John Cook shares his louder-than-life, awkward, and honest-as-hell stories. Packed with humour, real talk & creative insights in a no filter, digital comedy space that laughs at life & calls it like it is. He is also the Founder and President of

The Hidden Gallery - Art Studio & Micro Theatre

SUBSCRIBE TO NEWSLETTER