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| A Toast in Remembrance of a Beloved Pet | Started by: Drunky on Jun 07, '13 21:55 |
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It was cold. It was too fucking cold. It was that bitter sort of cold that won’t chill you to the bones—cold that sears exposed flesh and then numbs it before it could penetrate to the bones. Cold so cold that when I got to my house I needed a drink. And of course, by "a drink" I mean a bottle. I walked up the stairs to the liquor cabinet, past the bird cage, and poured out a quarter of the vodka into a glass of orange juice (without pulp, of course). After two gulps, I turned to say hello to my favorite pet, my beloved toucan, to pour him a drink. Wait. What? Why are you... NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Frantic at the thought that the unthinkable may have actually happened, I attempt to revive the now-still bird with an enticing drink of tropical citrus and alcohol. But alas! I succeed only in spilling a drink on the unmovable former-creature. My beloved Toucan! You had been with me, thick and thin, ever since I found you packaged away in the cargo crate full of rum I had imported from your home in South America! You were my soul mate, my fellow drunken avenger, the only bird I had ever found a connection with through all my drunken rants. NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! That’s right. This was one of those horrible, earth-shattering double-screamed-"NO!" moments that inhabit the twisted world of drunken nightmares and dead toucans. How could this be? Toucan, why have you done this to me? Why could you leave me like this, without a drinking partner? After all those nights we had shared together. You, flailing about and attempting to fly despite all the rum you had drank out of the bottles you would smash. Me, rolling on the floor in a pool of my own piss and vomit after unwisely moving onto a second bottle of hard liquor. You, giving me a conversation starter with the hot MILFs in the bars. Me, able to make children cry on the way out the MILF's doors the next morning with actually true “your mom” jokes. I ran from the house, out into the cold, without so much as donning a sweater. My fortress of solitude had been shattered. How could I live in such a vile place, a place where not even my beloved drunken pets would be safe from death’s hand? My only thought was that perhaps tonight there would be safety in numbers. Perhaps... The door to the speakeasy flew open, myself not far behind it. Aside the entrance a stupid penguin sat around, stupidly looking stupid. He was so blandly colorless I might as well have been looking at him through my television set. He had none of the bright, wonderful colors of my beloved drinking partner toucan. And what the fuck was he doing in the bar, anyway? Penguin, go outside. It’s cold! I thought you like the cold! And shouldn’t we get you to the zoo? Go to the zoo, Penguin! They’ll feed you a lot of nice rotten fish. You eat nasty, dirty fish that my beloved toucan would snub, because he would only eat delicious alcohol and fruit products, preferably puréed into a delicious smoothie that we could drink together under the warm sun. OH MY GOD, YOU STOLE THE SUN, TOO! Nasty, mean penguin, you stole the sun from me and made it cold and killed my toucan! Get out of the bar and go to the zoo! The penguin disappeared, all in an instant. Had it been a dream? A personification of evil? Did Lucifer bring him back to the pits of hell … or, could it be, that the penguin had been Lucifer himself? I do not know. The room is spinning. The speakeasy’s patrons are staring at me like I am a madman, yammering about invisible penguins they cannot see, as though it was all in my head. I saunter over to the bar. Ahhl, erm, I'll... I need a rum and coke please. The bartender sizes me up, unsure whether the drink will kill me. I don’t notice, though. At least the fucking penguin is at the zoo, freezing cold outside in the frozen wasteland that he froze by stealing the sun. The rum and coke arrives, too weak as always in these sorts of establishments. It was time for a toast. My friends. I'm here tonight because my good friend the toucan has passed away. My old friend. Favorite... friend. Buddy toucan. Best toucan I've ever dranked myself into a stupor with. Can we all have ourselfs a toast here to the best damn bird I've ever met? A rounder drinks on me, barkeeper, so we all can have a drink to my dearly departed pet bird! I down my drink in a few short swills. I have no idea if anyone has noticed me, as I slip off the bar stool and hope the good man behind the counter has enough sense to bring me another drink. On a cold, penguin-infested night like tonight, I need it. |
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Yeah... Too soon. He was a silly Toucan who had a heart full of love, and that there Penquin smells :( What are we to do now!?!? |
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| Reply by: DeadlySpikeS at Jun 08, '13 01:27 | |
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Thanatos makes sits next to Drunky and puts his arm around his colleague. He lifts his hand for the bartender to make him a drink. Jack and coke please. Been a rough couple days. Thanatos takes a few sips of the drink then downs the rest. Oh Toucan. From the moment I joined our crew, Toucan became a close friend. He was the Left Hand, so it was important for me to get to know him, but his enthusiasm for working for Jake and the effort he contributed rivaled that of anyone in the crew. In some ways, he was my friend because of how much he inspired me and drove me to beat him. He lifts his hand to order another of the same drink. He was my rival, friend, and competitor. I don't think I would have elevated through this crew as quickly if he hadn't been doing the same. There's definitely a hole in the crew where our bird-brained friend once was. He downs a second jack and coke, and shakes his head quickly as the alcohol start to set in. That being said, we cannot mope. Toucan spent every waking moment engaged in progressing our crew to the top. The primary thing we should take from his death is that now we need to work just as hard as he did to fill the gap he left. I loved that man, and now we keep on in his memory. May he rest in peace. |
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| Reply by: Thanatos at Jun 08, '13 21:44 | |
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The saddest thing I feel about our dear Toucan's death is that I never got to see him or the penquin fed to the lion :'( |
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| Reply by: Outkast at Jun 08, '13 22:47 | |
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the dr would bring out a jar of his home brewed white lightning and thinks to himself "i may not have known mr.toucan but i reckon he was an interestin' dude and i dont know what in tarnation happened to cause his untimely death" with that bein' thought dr-jackal pours a row of shots of his white lightning and starts downing the shots and pours everyone here a shot before putting his hat back on and taking his leave |
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| Reply by: Dr-Jackal at Jun 09, '13 12:39 | |
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Rawr... Prometheus misses his Toucan... I want him back! |
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| Reply by: Prometheus at Jun 09, '13 15:31 | |
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Tiburon gives a slight sigh as she shakes her head. Too many times some people are taken away from us far before we are ready. It is something that I hate to say is a fact of our lives. Toucan was a bird with many colors and also a very close friend that I am glad to have known and also work with. I hate to be standing here today but I'm sure that his memory will go on. Tiburon takes a shot from the Dr-jackal and raises it in the air. To family, memories and life. |
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| Reply by: Tiburon at Jun 09, '13 23:28 | |
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