The Whisky Blot
Journal of Literature, Poetry, and Haiku
It had been one of those shit days at work, and Nick needed a drink more than anything in the world. At 5:17pm, he was finally able to close his laptop, walk down the hall, grab a beer from the refrigerator and sit down in his recliner. His wife, Mandi, was seated in the other recliner with their 5-year son in her lap, playing video games on the television. “Shit, baby,” Nick said, holding the can up to his forehead, “What a fucking day.” “You made it though, baby.” “I know. I know. It’s just… Ron likes to crawl up my ass every Friday afternoon, you know. Gives me enough shit to make sure my weekend is ruined.” “Well, he’s not running this one, baby,” she said, reaching over and touching his hand. He smiled at her, then lifted the beer again and took a long pull. “No. Of course not. We ought to go to that aquarium tomorrow. I think Alex will really love it.” Mandi wrapped her arms around Alex and gave him a shake. “What do you say, Lexi? You wanna go to the aquarium tomorrow.” “Quarium,” he said not taking his eyes off the television. “I think that’s a yes. “I think so.” The beer went quickly. Nick threw the can away and opened a bottle of wine, one of the good ones, and poured two glasses. He handed one over to Mandi. “To… to everything,” he said. “To everything,” she repeated, chuckling. “Cheers.” They both took a sip. It tasted wonderful, well-earned. Nick sat back down at the recliner, sipped at the wine and watched the television. Alex was pretty damn good at the game. If only he could speak as well as he played, but that wasn’t his fault. Autism was a bitch. Something that a shithead like Ron would never understand. Just then, the man on the screen rammed his sword into a goblin, and Nick begin to fantasize what it’d be like to do the same. Soon, his glass was empty. He got up and poured a second, then brought the bottle over and set it on the table between them. When he sat down, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Ron. Of course it was. The data that you emailed to me seems wrong, it read. Well, that’s cuz you’re a shithead dunce who needs everything spelled out like a child, Nick thought of messaging back. “Who is it?” Mandi said. “Who do you think?” She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. You need to find another job.” “I know, baby.” Nick took a long sip, then set his glass down. He stood up. “You’re not thinking of answering him are you?” “Shit. I don’t know.” “Don’t baby, c’mon, let’s think about dinner.” “Alright, shit.” Nick sat back down, grabbed his glass. “What’re you in the mood for?” she asked. “Don’t know. You?” “Honestly, I’ve been craving burgers the last couple of days. I must be starting my period or something.” “Alright then. Let’s get burgers.” “Sweet.” Mandi set her glass down and began fiddling with her phone. Alex slid off her lap and stood in front of the television. He looked taller, as though he had another growth spurt overnight. That was good. He’d end up tall like his grandfather or his uncle on Mandi’s side, and weed out the short genes on Nick’s side. Nick had grown to 5’ 8” by fourteen years old. And, at forty-one, he was the exact same height. He had wanted to be a basketball player, but that dream failed by high school. Now, he was a spineless corporate data jockey, the kind he used to make fun of as a child. “Burgers ordered!” Mandi said. “Great,” Nick said, “I’m starting to get hungry.” His phone buzzed again. I’m also not seeing any updates on the analysis doc. “Goddamnit!” Nick said. “Not Ron again.” Mandi said. “Sunnuvabitch can’t let me go. He’s obsessed.” Nick drained his glass, set it down. “Maybe he’s into you.” “Shit, maybe,” Nick said, standing up. “No, baby, you’re not serious.” “I gotta. I won’t be able to relax otherwise.” Mandi sat back in her chair and sighed. “Alright then. I’ll let you know when the burgers are here.” “I’ll be done way before then.” “Sure.” “Potty!” Alex said, suddenly, pulling his pants down and waddling to the small plastic toilet by the fireplace. “You got this?” Nick said. “Yeah. Go ahead.” Nick returned down the hall into the bedroom. He sat at his desk in the corner and opened his laptop. The company chat board opened automatically, and there were the two messages he had read. Ron had an “Away Status” showing. Of course he did. Nick checked the data he had sent him earlier in the day. The numbers were correct. Then he checked the analysis doc. Columns J and K showed all of the updates he made in the last few days. He had even color-coded them to distinguish a data fix from a data enhancement. It was all there, everything he had asked for. So plain, so straightforward, a lobster could understand it. Staring down the messages, Nick thought of how to respond. He started typing. I’ve verified the data with the extracted report from… Delete. I believe Column J and K have those updates… Delete. Then, just for fun: Why the hell are you bothering me this late on a Friday? Nick sat back in his chair, giggling to himself. Delete. What are you stupid or something, fuckwit? It’s all there. He began to laugh out loud. Delete. You inbred, dipshit, son of a whore, I ought to curb stomp you until your brain works right. He laughed even harder, doubling over, holding onto the desk to stop from falling over. Once he gathered himself, he reached for the delete key. A loud splash came from the bathroom. Mandi opened the back door and looked into the bedroom. She was holding the bowl of the plastic toilet, now empty. “What the hell is so funny?” she asked. “Oh… nothing, baby. Just being stupid.” “Nothing out of the ordinary then.” “Nope.” “Well, hurry up, or I’ll drink the rest of the wine by myself.” “You ought to find yourself another husband then.” “Yeah, I ought to,” she said, laughing. “I won’t be much longer, baby. Everything looks good. Ron’s just a moron.” “Good. Burgers are on their way.” “Okay, baby.” Mandi walked down the hall. Nick turned back to the laptop. His last message was still there in all its glory. He let out another giggle, then pressed the delete key. It was still there. Nick’s eyes trailed down the screen. The chatbox was empty. His last message had been sent. He must have pressed the Enter key by mistake. “Oh, shit!” He scrolled to the chat bubble, clicked the triple dots in the corner, found the “Delete” trash can, and clicked it. This message has been deleted, appeared in its place. Nick sat back in his chair, exhaled. Then, looking up, he saw the little yellow “away” icon above Ron’s profile switch to a little green “ready” icon. Then a window appeared in the bottom right corner of the screen, and a familiar song began to play. Ron is calling… Nick slammed the laptop shut. He waited a minute for the call to end, then erased the app from his phone. He got up, staggered down the hallway, and found his recliner. Alex was standing in front of the television again. Mandi was pouring her second glass of wine. “Everything okay?” Mandi said. “Yeah… yeah,” Nick said. He held out his glass. “Can you top me off?” “You can have the rest, baby.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” She filled his glass to the brim, then set the empty bottle between them. Nick looked down into his glass, then up again just as Mandi was bringing her glass to her lips. “Wait,” he said. He held up his glass. “To everything,” he said. “To everything,” she said. They touched glasses, then drank. Nathaniel Sverlow is a freelance writer of poetry and prose. He currently resides in the Sacramento area with two cats, an incredibly supportive wife, and a rambunctious son. His previous publishing credits include Typehouse Literary Magazine, Divot: A Journal of Poetry, Right Hand Pointing, and Black Coffee Review. He has also written three poetry books, The Blue Flame of My Beating Heart (2020), Heaven is a Bar with Patio Seating (2021), and From One Fellow Insect (2023), and one prose collection, The Culmination of Egotism (2022). Comments are closed.
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