With one drink I begin to smile. Look at my teeth; it only takes one whole glass of German mechanics to make them shine. I hope you enjoy this moment because, as we both know, my stained and crooked chompers are special guest who don't come around that often; my teeth are wet snakes that happen to live in a turtle's shell. Expect anything and everything will happen.

With two drinks I am free to laugh. The annoyances, the anger, the malcontent desire to make bombs out of piss and poked chads have gone away. Now my teeth have some friends. My mouth stretches and transforms as badly timed jokes are tossed around the table.

I say a prayer to my god in-between sips that his gracious hand will come to form as a disaster unleashed upon our waitress. Her death could heighten our faith. Don't you feel it?

With three drinks we are firmly in this, and I'm okay with that. If you had asked me about charity, service, or love during the first sip of hoppy darkness I would have said nothing. My silence would have made all my hatred clear. My silence is my way of saying when the car gets fast enough I will push you out.

With the fifth drink (fuck the fourth I'll pound that one like our god does his enemies) everything becomes clear. As our elder told us the other day "when we are blurred we can see more than we normally do."

I love you, this I know. Our god I only like. This moment will be the memory I look back upon when there is nothing left but the tethered ideas of who we once were. My teeth will hiss from under their shell.