Or as my luck had been going lately any woman for that matter.
I didn't have a clue as to her name and honestly I didn't care I just did my best not to wake her as I slid out of bed and made my way to the restroom.
For my daily morning prayer to the porcelain God session.
And later as Frank sat there in the living room he had to question why the hell he felt the urge to put every part of his anatomy through hell or into someone else.
"God I feel like death warmed over."
Frank's newest house guest said as she sat beside him on the couch.
"Morning sweetheart."
She was far from a vision but she did appear as a temporary paradise.
"Jesus Christ how much did we drink last night?"
Frank laughed.
"Well sugar clearly enough to have misplace our clothes and have to swap fluids to somehow make it through the long cold night."
"You keep it like a fucking tomb in here."
His nameless house guest replied.
And although she had her charms he was already eager to see her departure.
Frank poured another shot into his coffee.
"A little hair of the dog sweetheart?"
"Its seven in the morning don't you think it's a bit early?"
"For pointless conversation, yes indeed I do sweetheart so again a little something to soothe the demons?"
Frank's newest part time friend took his mug.
Taking a sip making a face like she just tasted death itself.
"This is almost all whiskey how the fuck can you drink this shit?"
Frank looked around the room.
"Umm my darling did you not realize this is the lair of a alcoholic writer or did you mistake it for a very demented daycare facility?"
"You hate kids."
"Indeed I do so I repeat why wouldn't I be drinking in the morning, unless you have a better suggestion for something A bit more productive we could be doing."
Frank said as he placed his hand upon her thigh.
His new friend laughed.
"Yeah okay Romeo but maybe we should pay up your current tab first before adding to your debt."
Frank wasn't shocked he had taken shelter with a escort because in all truth in being a writer he had sold his ass most his existence for little to nothing.
And rented pleasures were far more honest than shared delusions.
And as he looked through his wallet he realized this party would not be having a encore.
"Well sweetheart I have to say it was fun but unless you have a atm crammed up your ass I believe this is where we will have to bid farewell."
"Aww tired of me already?"
"More like no more paper sweetheart again I repeat unless you take plastic."
Frank laughed as he replied for cleary this little dirty blonde train wreck had not heard him the first time.
"Hey that's not a problem."
This working girl replied as she pulled a little white contraption from purse.
As she promptly it plugged into her phone.
And while not even batting an eye.
Taking his card and looking to him asking.
"Okay so what you up for a Hand Job, Blowjob or the full package?"
Modern convenience and on the go technology had saved the day and when you can order Pussy easier than McDonalds you know the world's truly going to hell.
Frank decided to cast his fates to the wind cause you only live once he thought to himself.
If only you could purchase a new liver and a few spare brain cells then what a wonderful world this would be.
Cheers.
About John Patrick Robbins:
John Patrick Robbins
Is the author of Sex , Drugs & Poetry from Whiskey City Press .
He is also the editor of The Rye Whiskey Review and Under The Bleachers.
His publications include , Ariel Chart , The San Pedro River Review , The Mojave River Review , Piker Press , Punk Noir Magazine, Beatnik Cowboy , Fixator Press, Blognostics and here at the Dope Fiend Daily .
His work is always unfiltered.
Good 👍👍
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