First Drink

A small redheaded boy of about six years of age sat down on the edge of an isolated dock on Lake Mohawksin, he had slipped out of his shirt and shoes due to the heat and kicked a foot on the surface of the water, relishing the coolness on his toes.

Then he glanced at the small case at his side and looked away quickly, the guilt of what he had done still acute but abating.

"It's not like he'll miss these," the boy everyone called Pickles (even his parents) reminded himself, "His memory is slipping so he'll probably think he drank 'em if he goes looking."

Another small of stab of guilt hit his heart, but it was smaller than the last one.

Pickles stared at the water even as his hand reached into the case and pulled out a frosty cold can from it's confines.

One of his first memories was of his father drinking beer with their neighbor, Mister Johnston and asking why he couldn't have one.

"Cus you're too young for it, kid." Mister Johnston had answered with a big belly laugh, his big white beard glistening with the shine of spilt yellow-gold liquid, "We adults need booze to feel good. Kids like you don't need the help at all."

The only other thing that Pickles remembered was his father's glare of annoyance, though he couldn't remember what came of it.

Even as he slowly lifted the tab and heard the distinctive sound of carbonization as the aluminum container was exposed to oxygen, Pickles could still see his big brother Seth playing with matches.

Pickles stared at the can of Budweiser, the light of the sun on the shiny surface resembled the flames that had consumed the garage after he had spooked Seth and the idiot had dropped a lit match onto the pile of oily rags that their father just left in a corner, too lazy to properly throw them away.

He could still feel the ache of running hard and fast to get out of the garage as it had quickly been consumed by fire, and his ears still rang with his brother's lies.

"Why do they always believe him over me?!" Pickles said to can, seeing their screaming faces, pointing fingers, and accusing eyes, "What's wrong with me?"

His gaze never left the pilfered alcohol, and with a deep breath to steel himself Pickles raised the can slowly to his lips and took a big, deep gulp.

He then gagged and spat out what hadn't already gone down his now burning throat.

"Oh my gosh! What do the old people see in this?!" Pickles began to complain, the taste being the most bitter thing he had ever tasted.

Then he began to feel a strange warmth in his belly, Pickles glanced back at the can for a moment as the small warmth began to spread out through his body, taking the bad away.

"Oh," Pickles breathed with a lazy smile, "I get it now."

He then scraped his tongue with his teeth quickly to prepare it before taking a second, bigger gulp of Mister Johnston's beer.

"This feels good…" Pickles slurred as the warm feeling continue to get bigger and better.

He let out a loud laugh, he didn't know what was funny, but it didn't seem to matter.

Not even the can running out bothered him, he just crushed it with a shrug and chucked it into the lake with another laugh before grabbing a second one and found his fingers had a hard time opening it for some reason.

"Come on you stupid can!" Pickles slurred/growled, his face twisting into intense concentration as his fingers struggled to find purchase on the can's tab.

And then…

"There, got it!" Pickles crowed in triumph as he managed to open it and took a large swig, the bitterness of the substance bothering him less and less with each taste.

After all it was making him feel amazing, he could live with a bad taste in his mouth for something that felt like… like…

"Happiness." A voice whispered to him, bringing him down a bit.

So to make it go away, Pickles took another deep gulp of beer.

The warm feeling returned soon afterward, taking away all the bad things in his life and made the world worth living in again.

"I've gotta get my friends in on this…" Pickles briefly thought to himself before he felt the idea slip away from some reason, the entire world suddenly seeming to spin all around him.

He didn't know why, but it did make him finish his second beer and begin to reach for his third when a sudden lurch in his stomach made him stop in mid-motion.

"Oh my… hurrrgggghhh!" Pickles managed to say before throwing up right into the water.

He swayed back and forth for a minute before falling backwards into the dock, the sky now high overhead, but even with the dizziness of nausea his hands were still trying to reach the case of beer.

"Why'd I do that?" Pickles asked himself even as he opened a third can.

He stopped caring a couple second later, the happy sensation was gone and he didn't care what it took to get it back again.

So he fought against his suddenly rebellious belly and pulled himself up and began to drink the third can.

He then decided he'd save one and offer it to his friends on Monday after school to try.

"Cus this is the best…" Pickles mumbled to himself with only the case of beer for company.

However that didn't bother him at all, since even with his family hating his guts Pickles had discovered a new friend that made him feel all the warmth and love that they had never given him at all.

Pickles then remembered that there had been some other beers and other bottles in Mister Johnston's garage freezer and wondered if they were any good too.

"I've gotta find out!" Pickles decided even as he raised his free arm up in the air, trying to make a fist of triumph for some reason.

After a few minutes of struggle he gave it up like a bad job and finished the can and reached for another one.

He wanted to keep the good feeling going for as long as he could.

And for some reason he got the funny feeling that he could keep it going for a long, long time.

FIN