"Why don't you give yourself a better chance at life? I don't know a shit about music careers and stuff like that, but you definitely sound good and got what it takes to play on big scenes."
"What do you think about what I said?" He ended as he puffed out a large cloudy tobacco smoke from his thin lips.
"Tim?" he added nearly sighing at the same time.
He waited patiently. Waiting for a semblance of an answer before turning his head toward the awakening drunkard. Only to find that he had just lighted himself another cigarette with the still flaming bud he had just finished smoking.
A flash of sadness appeared in the owner's eyes, he sighed loudly with his brain failing to find anything else to say. Indignant and at loss, the bar owner crushed the flaming tip of his cigarette on the green colored dumpster before moving toward the door that led to the Four Leafs.
"You can keep the pack, count it as your last pay." He added with one last sight before disappearing from the murky alley. "Pick up your stuff before leaving."
The metallic door of the bar closed with a loud bang that contained the frustration of the owner. The black-haired man named Tim never turned his head toward the bar owner and had been staring straight in front of him for the majority of the one-sided conversation.
His dry lips pursed as he sucked nonchalantly on the cigarette that was hanging between the edges of his mouth. Time passed quietly, and it was only when the burning filter started burning him that he slowly came back to his sense with a grunt.
The sharp pain forced his consciousness out of the intoxicated, for a split second his eye regained their clarity as his head rose toward the dark night. He released a long sigh, filled with a morose and dry tone, the kind of tone that sung stories of sadness, so deep and dramatic, that it had ingrained itself in every inch of the drunkard's soul. Sadly, the moment of clarity didn't continue for a long period of time as Tim's damaged body began screaming for the substance he had just thrown up.
It was as if every single cell in his being had united, deciding that the most important thing for him now was a cold refreshing shot of liquor. Even his mind, after years of delusion and self-destructive intoxication, had ended up rerouting itself to follow those cravings. Nothing moved him more in life than coloring the livid gray world he was seeing everybody.
Every single individual that had interacted with him throughout the past few years would dare say that Tim was capable of consuming anything that could bend his reality. Soon enough, the shabby-looking drunkard rose from the comfortable pile of trash bags he had been lying on and moved toward the door leading to the inside of Four Leafs. Before long, he came out from the bar's main entrance.
In the grasp of his hands could be seen two bottles of the cheapest liquor, the Four Leafs had in stock. He had traded them for the guitar and amp he had been using to perform there, on his face flashed a carefree smile that showed he didn't regret the trade at all. His legs walked through the empty streets, one of the bottles already uncorked wide open and in the process of being rapidly gulped down his throat.
The bitter and strong taste hit his taste buds with the dryness of the Sahara desert but he didn't mind, washing the taste with the acidic taste of the cheap cigarette brand the bar owner smoked. The kind of cocktail that nobody would want in his mouth had turned into the sweetest meal for the thirty-year-old drunkard.
His walk soon acquired a strange rhythm, a strange happy waltz accompanied him through his journey. Crossing many empty streets and avenues on feet. Tim walked and walked, sometimes he would hum melodies and tap drum-like sonority with the sole and back of his boots.
By the time the first bottle was emptied, the last few drops spilling all over the unkempt beard of the drunkard, the scenery around him had turned into a loving suburb area. The houses and familial villas spread around the lovely district were a far cry image from the area of the city where Four Leafs could be found.
Here, nobody would ever think that the bearded homeless looking man wouldn't be stopped by the security guys that took care of the luxurious area. A few of them tried talking to him as they knew he was a resident of the area, but his mood seemed to change when he had arrived here and he simply nodded with a mindless face before ignoring the familiar figures.
His eyes in particular were colorless and cloudy whenever his gaze stopped at the luxurious houses that composed the lovely suburb area. Strangely, the speed at which he walked had reduced drastically and the taste of the alcohol on his tongue turned bitter with every other mouthful he swallowed down his dry throat. It was clear and apparent for any late night passerby that the man wasn't having a good time.
The happy, joyous, intoxication had taken a swift turn toward the opposite direction of the emotional spectrum. Sweat had piled up all over his body as the walk that took him from the Four Leafs to the suburb area couldn't exactly be considered a short distance. The calm and lovely neighborhood he was currently walking in was situated in a quiet area of the city, far away from the more rural downtown area where the Four Leafs was situated.
Even as the taste of the alcohol turned bitter and awful, his envy to dim and dilute his mind with the beverage didn't stop. Actually, it was the opposite, the strength of his hand rose as he clenched the bottle tighter. By the time his legs came to a stop in front of a large black colored gate, the skin around his fingers had turned completely white and devoid of blood due to his rigid death grip.
This peculiar area of the quiet suburb was particularly lacking when it came to sources of lights, only the soft light coming from the moon illuminated the black colored gate. Tim stepped through the darkness and entered the large residence with ease, even drunk and tired he managed to walk through the small rocky steps that led to the main house of the luxurious residence.
The only sound that welcomed his arrival was the rustling leaves and the chirping cicadas that accompanied him until he stepped through the main door of his home. If any customer from the Four Leafs heard that the drunk guitarist they knew lived in a grand mansion, they would probably bawl in surprise and see the weird drunkard with an even stranger look.
Sadly, none of them would ever meet him again as the deal he had with the Four Leafs had come to an end. For the thirty-year-old drunkard, another lost gig simply meant that he had to look for another place to go to. The simple task wasn't anything easy for the man surnamed Old Tim, in his mind, gigs weren't really done to live his life.
Drunk and tired by the long walk, he sighed a long and pained exhalation before taking the direction of his kitchen. Dazed and thirsty, he looked around the hallway as if his eyes could look through time to gaze directly in the past of the house.
The unkempt hallway, dusty and full of stacked boxes, in between them could be seen numerous broken furniture and other broken objects.
Before long, a vague outline appeared in his hazy vision as his deluded mind projected what he had been missing all along. The view of his mansion changed as it regained the state it had when he had lived here with his wife.
His eyes turned crystalline as the reflection of moonlight shone brightly on his trembling iris. The atmosphere surrounding the untidy thirty-year-old man wasn't anything that could be faked. Before long, his entire soul seemed to be attracted to the dusty portrait and picture frames that were hanging on the wall shelves. His entire being seemed to be attracted to a specific picture that seemed to force all the intoxicating substance he had ingested out of his body.
The numerous emotions and sensations that appeared on the drunkard's body and soul made him feel as if his spirit had left his body. At some point, a small grin even draw itself on his lips as he basked through numerous memories that resurfaced in his dazed mind.
Strangely, what first appeared after the outline of his deceased wife in the mind of the nostalgic drunkard, were happy and joyous moments of his life. It was as if whatever he was currently yearning for was currently being drawn out and played inside his intoxicated mind. However, it didn't take long for the serene expression that had appeared on his face to completely disappear, changing to another mask.
Before long, the happy nostalgia had turned into a nightmare as the eyes of the drunkard turned into pin-point dots. His vision turned shaky as a nauseating, cold, sweat spewed out of every single pore existing in his body. Even when his body was doing its best to digest the intoxicating liquor, the drunkard didn't hesitate before swinging the bottle he was clenching all along.
The memories of his failures flashed in his mind one after another. A particular memory hanging tightly on his brain's synapses, burning his mind with vivid images. He couldn't help but see himself standing in the middle of the scene.
That specific memory was taking place on the same spot he was standing on. Tim's past figure stood there, not far from the position he was currently in, facing him was a man he knew far too well. Tim's face couldn't help but tighten as his mind took him back to the traumatic event.
"I can't deal with this shit anymore! Tim, you are more than a brother … and I know that what you are going through isn't easy."
"But damn … you need to do something. Look, I've talked a lot with your family, specifically your parents… They told me that you should just forget what happened and go back home. Even if it sounds difficult, you need to understand that losing a close one can happen…"
"It is painful and can end up decimating your entire being but you gotta hang in there…"
The expression flashing on Tim's face couldn't be anything but anger as he lashed back at the man trying to maintain the last link he had with his family.
The troubled event that had taken place right where the current drunkard was standing continued. The man speaking to a clean-looking Tim, albeit pale faced and with eyes that hid a soul that had gone through far too many sleepless nights.
It was with a large mouthful that he finished the last bottle of liquor he had traded with the barman that worked in Four Leafs, the dryness of the beverage instantly took him back to reality. His body constantly shaky and unsteady, a pained burp escaping from his mouth as he took the direction of the kitchen.
The floor tiles he was stepping on were dirty, crunchy sounds resounded under the drunkard's steps as he made his way through the house. Grunts escaped from his throat but that didn't stop him from lighted himself another cigarette. The sharp fire from the smoking tobacco stick hanging between his parched lips forced a few coughs out of his damaged lungs.
Small burning bits of ash fell on his unkempt beard but his dull mind didn't feel anything. His dazed steps soon took him to a "pristine white" kitchen. That would have been the case if the kitchen had received any kind of maintenance or cleaning, however, what Tim walked in would befit a garage instead of a place where one would cook healthy meals.
Large boxes. A few opened, others were closed and tightly sealed to maintain the quality of the product that was stored inside. Tim advanced toward the large freezer that was sitting in a corner of the room. He lazily kicked a few empty boxes on his road, the sound of breaking glass resounded through the quiet residence causing the drunkard to release a few curses.