"Sobering up would definitely help me drive home safer," I thought to myself as the blue rubber band tightened on my wrist. It was only for a few hours, as far as I could remember. It was making all the blood stop rushing towards my left hand; the hand it was on. Thank god I was right handed, then, I thought to myself, as my left hand turned as blue as the band itself.
"I am sober," I convinced myself, as I was getting in the car to drive home. Was I not? The blue rubber band was getting angrier. It was shouting at me and biting at my skin, so I decided to take it off. The rubber band had similar thoughts as I did. As soon as I took off the blue rubber band, my hand came off with it. Who cared though, right? I could still drive, and my oppressor, the blue rubber band, was no longer on my body.
"I didn't need that damned hand. It was nothing but another thing holding me back from my potential," I said to myself as I was getting out of the car, leaving the rubber band and my hand in the car. I walked inside of my house, and sat down with my good and loyal friend by the name of Red Rubber Band.
We didn't say anything; we never did. I trusted this silicone object more than anything, though. I didn't have to hear him talk to know he had the best intentions for me.
Tonight was different. We talked for the first time. I was doubting my sobriety.
"I've heard you finally let go of that blue rubber band."
"Let go of it? Finally? It's been on my wrist for less than two hours, I'd like to think that's a fair time."
"Fair or not, you've lost your left hand. It was about time you realized that the blue rubber band was nothing more than that; a loss of your time, and hand!"
"It was only two hours, surely the thing's action couldn't've been intentional!"
"How would you know?"
There was complete silence for a while, as the red rubber band was slowly dragging itself onto my hand. Then it spoke once more-
"I'll stay on the wrist of your right hand to protect it, just to make sure the blue wrist band doesn't come back for more."
I mumbled an alright as I was walking to bed to sleep off what I just experienced, right hand still intact.
The next morning I awoke up with quite the hangover. As soon as I regained a bit of consciousness, the red band spoke in his raspy voice:
"I saw you with a drink in your right hand the other night, so I figured I might as well take off your right arm, since as you know, alcohol is dangerous."
It stopped talking once again, this time for good.
Satisfied with my safety, I got up to go to my good job, although struggling a bit to gain balance.
