Alcoholics...
Drinking every day, in the morning so the hands wouldn't tremble - otherwise he couldn't work anything including holding a toothbrush, and even worse, a glass (oh, that's not a real problem, they drink from a bottle anyway). Later, to gain strength, because he can't stand on his feet because wine/brandy/etc gives power to his leg muscles. In the noon because his stomach wouldn't work and the food wouldn't be digested properly. In the afternoon he probably goes to a bar/pub/tavern, but any of these names is a compliment for this dark place filled with smoke, with wooden chairs, old windows that never get washed, floor that is so dirty that fits the guests' clothes, a jar of wine cheaper than water in neighbor market and made in owner's cellar probably never seeing grape, a place that must have inspired directors of old comedies where peasants discuss about Transylvanian vampires, having their windows covered with garlic. Sometimes they go home for supper, but often find it a loss of time, and stay beside the same table until the owner turns the light off, that single bulb hanging from the ceiling on a wire that was a part of a long ago broken pendant. And then he tries to find his way home, but this task often can't be achieved. The street is too long and too narrow, if he manages to chose the correct one at all. And at least once a week he won't be able to reach his home: if he walks home he'll be too tired and lay under a tree to rest, what might last till morning; if he rides a bike the ditches along the road are too tempting and the real question is if both he and the bike end in the same side, or one ends on left, the other on the right ditch. Anyway, every real alcoholic at least several times per month returns home in a wheelbarrow driven by a brother, neighbor, or a drinking buddy who still didn't touch the bottom. And finally, if the hero of our story lives in a suburb or a village, he probably lives in a house with a cellar, and guess what it the main if not the only content of this favorite part of his home? So, if he returns alone (not in a wheelbarrow), it will not be in marital bed, but two and half meters below, among his pets, his barrels full of wine of his own production whose quality doesn't differ much from the one already dispersed along his veins. And not rarely this underground visit will turn to all-night-long one because he will fall asleep on the floor or on the stairs. This will be helpful for him, because when he wakes in the middle of the night he will already be there with everything he needs in life, instead of getting up from the bed and crawling to the cellar if it was one of those nights when he managed to reach his bed.
If you have never seen an alcoholic like this, talked to him, knew his wife, family, friends, talked to people who he works with (are, more likely, worked with because he has been fired - again, as so many times before), talked to his doctors and social workers who have been repeatedly told to give up, to disappear and leave him alone because this is exactly the life that he wants to live; if you have never heard one of them telling you proudly how he fooled his doctors and nurses and managed to get new supplies of liquor each and every day of his hospital "treatment", if you have never talked to a person who dropped an alcoholic in a wheelbarrow, drove him home, put him in the middle of the garden, took a hose for watering the garden or supplying water to cattle, then washed the ditch mud from our hero's clothes, skin, hair, because taking him to bathroom would make it unsuitable for use for a long, long time... yes, if you have never had such an opportunity, than I believe your first thought when seeing Oskar's dad is that he is alcoholic.
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BrainGirl78
10 years ago
I don't know if you're being facetious, but alcoholics run the gamut of more then what you described.
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