kaydeefalls | drabblish thingy

Out of nowhere came a drabble. Except it was 179 words, and therefore not a drabble, but not long enough to be a ficlet, so I dub it a Drabblish Thingy (TM). Or something. Make of it what you will.

Clown

Dom is something of a clown. He clowns around. He has a quick wit and impeccable comic timing. He has it down to an art.

And tonight, when he drank a whole bottle of some kind of rum, and by the time it was empty the very air around him tasted faintly of coconut even though the alcohol itself had been reduced to a dull hot buzz on his tongue and down his throat —

tonight, when he put down the bone-dry bottle and watched it fall over and off the table through someone else's eyes —

tonight, when he leaned over to pick up the shards of glass bottle and toppled over, legs and feet splayed comically across broken glass —

they laughed, and he laughed with them and pretended not to notice Elijah and whoever Elijah will be going home with tonight over there in the corner not noticing him, and he grinned in his best clownishly drunk manner at the others and felt a piece of glass cutting into his hand, sharp and biting and not funny at all.