‘Jacks are better’
What does that even mean? Isn’t Jack somebody’s name first, before being whiskey? Advertising has always been such a funny form of art.
I’m in my spot at the corner of the bar. The one that faces the aforementioned ‘Jacks Are Better’ poster. Laptop and blackberry plugged in. Glass of Jack Daniels and cola on the table. David (the waiter) knows to ‘keep em coming’. The glass can never be empty.
I signal that I’m done with the pizza. I face my screen again and stare blankly at the Microsoft Office Word page staring back at me. I look at my watch. Time to go home. Drats. Day four. Tomorrow is another day, I think to myself, as I pack up. Day 5. There’s supposed to be magic associated with the number five right? Maybe. Just maybe by this time tomorrow my screen won’t be blank again.
I look at my watch. Again. Time to go home. Again. I move the mouse pointer to the ‘X’ at the top right hand corner of the page. The absence of the box with the question “Do you want to save changes to Document 1” mocks me. Again.
I thought today would be the day. I had come here so pumped up and psyched. ‘Come on girl! You can do this! You’ve got this!’ The silence of the empty page is so loud. Too loud. What happened to me? This is me! I’ve always had the words. When everything and everyone one else left, the words always remained. Always. But even they had left me this time.
That’s it, I’m done.
I remember taking a detour on the way home; BIG Mart. I remember subconsciously noting that a bottle of Jack Daniel’s had gone up by five hundred naira. I remember putting on my Coldplay collection in my bedroom. I remember taking the first swig from the bottle. I remember…
I don’t remember.
I’m not even sure what I’m doing here. I’d said yesterday was the last. Funny, I never get hangover headaches. Just a general feeling of wastefulness. Like I’m caught up in some kinda limbo. I shouldn’t be here today. I woke and the bottle was empty. I’m not sure how. I was home alone though so I’m certain I had something to do with it. Crap. Crap it all to hell. I’m going home. I should go home. I should shut down, pack up and go home. I should.
I decide to walk home this time and I walk past the church. It’s funny that some of my best memories are of this place. Too bad. I don’t believe there is a God.
I need to get the hell up out of here.