The Alcoholic Kittens

2. We're Only In It For The Money

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking, Sebastian?" The bartender asked, eying the doubled-over hippie sitting at his bar. Sebastian turned his face into a dim light of the bar, the light glinting against the shimmery black skin around his eye and the sickly bruises sprouting around his jaw. The dark-haired bartender stopped cleaning the glass in his large hands.

"No," Sebastian replied with a crooked half-grin that showed parts of his teeth, then ordered Jack Daniels on the rocks. The bartender was quick to pour him the drink. Sebastian fished his worn black leather wallet out of the pocket of his Levi's and put down five dollars, "For the rest of my drinks." He took a sip as he placed his wallet back into his pocket.

The radio droned on about war-related issues, that the government hadn't been giving the public an accurate number on the troops in Vietnam. Sebastian gritted his teeth at the news. The pain that sent through his jaw caused him to grimace, and he drank the rest of his Jack in a single gulp. He ordered another. The bartender placed a full glass in front of him. The radio crackled.

There was a jingle as the bar's door opened, then it clicked shut. Sebastian looked up from his amber-colored liquor to see who had entered. He grinned, then immediately grimaced from pain, at the white-haired man who came walking in.

"Sebastian, hey!" Snare said with a grin, walking over to his friend and greeting him with a handshake. He sat down on the stool next to Sebastian and ordered a Coke, then looked back at his friend. His grin fell and his light blue eyes widened. "You weren't kiddin' about getting beat up. You ain't lookin' too cherry, man."

"Yeah I don't feel too cherry neither," Sebastian replied and took a sip of his Jack. "I'm glad you came. Is everyone else coming?"

Snare took a sip of his Coke and swished it around in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't know," Snare finally said. "I didn't call 'em, but you know they'll be here if they said they'll be here." Sebastian nodded, and Snare bobbed his head back, his chin-length white hair swaying as he did so.

A radio ad for Budweiser crackled in the background. The door swung open again, this time followed by the combined noise of a group of teenage boys walking into the bar. Sebastian looked over Snare's shoulder and saw the rest of his friends walking toward him, their hands in their pockets.

"Hey Sebastian, how come I've never met this Brent guy?" Carl asked, nudging Brent as he did so.

"Carl, man, I told you," Brent said, catching the seat to Sebastian's right, "he just met me last night."

Sebastian grinned and shook his head at his friends, taking a sip of his drink.

"How'd you guys come to meet up so quick anyway?" He asked.

Carl tore into a story about how he nearly ran Brent over on the sidewalk, but Andy — the large, black-haired, quiet one who was sitting next to Snare — had pulled the wheel away at the last second. Evidently, they had ran their lead wagon of a Cadillac into one of the light poles on the street, had Brent get into the back seat, and drove away before the fuzz could be on the scene. Brent backed up the story with vivid details and exclamations about Carl's driving, while Andy sat coolly back and tapped a bottle cap against the counter.

"I don't believe a word of it," Sebastian said at the conclusion of their story. Brent and Carl looked at each other, then laughed. Sebastian rolled his eyes and ordered another drink.

For a while, they spoke of their arduous work days and how they both missed and loved being out of high school. Snare said he nearly lost another finger while wagging the stump of his severed one in front of Brent's face — another cutting machine down at the factory. Sebastian admitted to struggling in his math courses at college, and immediately turned to Brent for how he had been.