Fiction: A Bottle of Vodka

By E. Ramiro

It hadn’t been long since the noises stopped that the boy crept to the bedroom across the hall. One by one, he had heard a rattle, a sigh, then the bed in that room bend under the weight of its occupant, before the choking started. Choking and a nasty gurgling sound, as if the person in there had taken too big a sip of water and couldn’t swallow it all at once. Now that the noiseshad stopped, though, the boy felt that he could get a word in with the person without having to be on standby to perform the Heimlich maneuver; it was time they had enough for tonight. And he really wanted some of their vodka.

So he crept on, his footsteps being naturally muffled by the hall’s shag carpeting, but still walking lightly, lights out so as to not wake the roommates. Close the door, across the hall is the bathroom, one door to the left, and knock. Simple as that. Of course, they could already be passed out; Lord knew that they drank like a fish on the nightly and it was already after midnight.

And even though the boy was willing to test his luck, he knew well that that final swig they took probably knocked them out. Better the vodka did the job for me. Wouldn’t be the first time either. Probably threw up all over the bed too.

For being a raging alcoholic, they were such a lightweight.

But as he knocked, the door swung open, stirred intomotion by his fist from the place of rest it had found reclining in the portal. They left the window open, and the curtains floated in the midsummer breeze. Enough moonlight had made it into the room that the boy was able to see that the room was empty of its occupant, rather unsurprising considering the kind of people they were, a patron of the bars. And so, the vodka would be here somewhere. Probably under the covers, considering how they were known to sleep with their current bottle. The boy spread his arms and allowed himself to fall facedown onto the bed, where he landed on his roommate.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry dude. I didn’t realize you were there. Just came by to get some for myself.” No response. Must be out cold. Better not to wake them, just let him find the vodka and go back to his room, and they would not have to know this happened. And roll them on their side once he finds the bottle; they let up some vile smelling vomit.

The boy began getting handsy, finally finding the bottle atthe union of their legs and took it from that V-shaped carriage, before rolling them on their side, facing the wall. He went to pick the bottle back up from the nightstand where he left it, and that was when he noticed the little white paper on the nightstand, labelled with the boy’s name. And the boy picked it up and read it through thin moonlight. He dropped it to the floor and ran back to the roommate, beginning to shake them violently, and they did not stir.

That was when he decided to flush the paper down the toilet. He poured himself a glass of vodka, then replaced the bottle, and replaced the door too. Nobody had to know that he was in their room tonight; he had been asleep since shortly after dinner. Nobody needed to know that the boy knew about the corpse, and nobody needed to know what was on that note.

E. Ramiro is an undergraduate student in Economics at Colorado State University. He enjoys reading English and Spanish language poetry, as well as prose by Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, and Stephen King.