Brandon C. Crabtrey

Apocalyptic Dipsomaniac

Of all the times in history to be a heavy drinker, I end up in the one with the most broken and dried out bottles. You might think it near impossible to get access to enough booze to even get a buzz, much less a habit. But, unlike some of the other poor saps in The Beginning that found the cliched holdouts like grocery stores and water towers, I stumbled upon a liquor store. Not just any liquor store, the liquor store. It was the Macy’s of fine wines and spirits, a whole small warehouse of booze, mixers, and all on one of the few still active power grids. It was all mine! Now, don’t get me wrong, I know that to most folks, maybe a head of lettuce or a loaf of bread would be preferred to a bottle of scotch and some potato chips. However, before everything went sideways, I was…well, a bit of a deadbeat. Mind you, I never claimed to be a good husband or even a good person, but my family hoped that I could be both of those one day. It was a good thought.