DeletedUser13682
Peadar listened to Harriet's job description. It sounded boring, extremely boring. Peadar had done some boring things but not as boring as taking soil samples. He pitied her. As she talked, Peadar also noticed that Harriet's speech was getting increasing slurred. He guessed that you didn't get much alcohol in prison. A horrible existence indeed. Peadar himself was starting to feel the effects of the drink, but years of army life had tempered Peadar's liver. Before long, Harriet felt that it was time to leave, though the hour was still early. She got up to leave, and promptly fell back into her chair.
The alcohol had disabled her legs. She slurringly asked someone to help her to her room. Poor girl, she had been from the drink far too long and had bitten off more than she could chew (metaphorically). It was Peadar's duty as a career drinker to help the fledgling with her imprudent decision and its consequence. "I'll help out. Besides, I think it's time to flip my record over. Mp3 just doesn't have the same quality as vinyl." Peadar got up and helped Harriet out of her seat, supporting her in the usual manner. "Come on now. Get your key ready, the bar isn't far from our rooms."
The alcohol had disabled her legs. She slurringly asked someone to help her to her room. Poor girl, she had been from the drink far too long and had bitten off more than she could chew (metaphorically). It was Peadar's duty as a career drinker to help the fledgling with her imprudent decision and its consequence. "I'll help out. Besides, I think it's time to flip my record over. Mp3 just doesn't have the same quality as vinyl." Peadar got up and helped Harriet out of her seat, supporting her in the usual manner. "Come on now. Get your key ready, the bar isn't far from our rooms."