Finally, the finale of Frosty’s Sober Saga is here!
It’s been one hell of a ride, Muggheads, but the end is upon us at last! This is it, the final chapter in my story of sobriety! And like all good stories, this one began with a drink, and it’s going to end with a drink too!
I spent most of the afternoon after the trial drinking. I drank like I’d never drank before. Slim suggested I should slow down a bit and try to pace myself. I suggested he mind his own damn business! I had only half a day to train for my contest that coming night with Edwin. This time it was personal. This time, I was going to win!
Oh, and I had to follow that new court order that required me to remain drunk at all times. I had already pissed off Johnny Law once, and I sure as hell didn’t want to do it again!
The night came sooner than I expected. Remember what I said wayyyyyy back in Part 7 about time moving differently when you didn’t have a beer to keep you company? Imagine how fast time moves when you have an entire case of them. Zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, sober to drunk in the drink of… something that rhymes with “eye”. I don’t know, cut me a break fellas, your pal Frosty has been through a lot!
Me and Slim entered Yellowz Bar and Grill around 8 PM. Edwin was already there, standing by the juke box sipping on his usual Gin and Goose. Juan, Alex, and Peter were also there, drinking their usual drinks. Even Mike the Bartender was there, tending his usual bar.
“BARTAYYYYY!” I shouted out to him, completely forgetting that his name was Mike and that he hated the nickname “Barty”.
As Slim went to go grab us drinks, I went over to Edwin. We looked at each other and nodded. Putting my game face on, I uttered “Let’s do this.” Our group commandeered a table, much to the chagrin of the people already sitting at it. Beat it scrubs, this is MY story!
We laid out the rules, which were the same as before, minus the stipulation that the loser goes sober for an entire year. I’d been down THAT road already, and no man should ever have to experience such horrific torture. Not even Edwin, who was sure to lose this time.
The waitress brought over our first rounds, we clinked our glasses together in cheers, and we drank.
And we drank. And we drank. And we drank!
Just like last time, we drank for four and a half hours straight, neither of us letting up in the slightest. Just like last time, Slim racked up a huge bar tab and wanted compensation. Just like last time, Alex was off spouting his latest kooky conspiracy theory while Juan was trying to get him to shut up. Just like last time, Peter had left over three hours ago (this was also the last time I ever saw him for some reason!). Just like last time, we ended up kicking both our beers’ taps.
And just like last time, Barty Marty Mike the Bartender came over with a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and two shot glasses.
“This is the last goddamn time I let you guys have this ridiculous contest in my bar. Now finish this stupid shit and get the hell out!”
Oh god, not the vodka again!
Edwin began laughing like a lunatic.
“HAHAHA, GET THE TRASH CAN READY, FROSTY THE BLOW-MAN’S GONNA HURL AGAIN!”
This wasn’t fair! Why did we have to finish with Edwin’s favorite drink of choice? Why couldn’t we just drink another beer or play Flip Cup or something?
Edwin continued laughing his head off. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed.
And then suddenly he stopped.
And then he burped.
And then he burped again, this time fighting to keep his mouth closed.
And then Edwin threw up all over the table.
I couldn’t believe it! And neither could Mike the Bartender, who started shouting and threatening to ban us all from the bar if we didn’t clean it up.
Edwin attempted to volunteer to clean it up, only to yak again and collapse onto the table. This was incredible! My opponent, the dreaded and fearsome Flamin’ Ed, the man who was responsible for my entire last year of sobriety and misery, had been defeated and was now lying face-down in a pile of his own puke! I won! And not only had I won, but I had won while humiliating my opponent! Edwin had gotten so full of himself that he emptied himself all over the table. I was totally nonplussed. Plus, I didn’t have to drink any vodka either, so that was a huge plus.
Triumphantly, I stood up and raised my hands in glory.
“YEAH, SUCK IT EDWIN YOU FUCKING NERD, I WIN!”
Edwin groaned, still face-down in his own vomit.
Taking full advantage of the opportunity and seizing the moment, I began singing my own version of “Frosty the Snow Man”.
“FROSTY THE DRUNK MAN IS A BEER-DRINKING KING! GIVE HIM A MUG AND WATCH HIM CHUG LIKE IT JUST AIN’T NO BIG THING!”
The crowd joined in. I’m not really sure how they knew the lyrics since I was just making this up on the spot, but I was too consumed by my glory to care.
“FROSTY THE DRUNK MAN DRANK A LOT OF BREW! HE WENT TO TOWN AND POUNDED IT DOWN AND LEFT EDWIN IN HIS OWN SPEW!”
It was a great time for Frosty Mugg! But the party didn’t have to stop here! No, the party was just getting started! I asked Barty for a celebratory round for everyone. After reminding me again not to call him Barty (I’ll remember one of these days, I promise Bar- I mean, Mike!), he demanded we leave his bar and don’t come back for an entire month. Party pooper!
As we staggered out of Yellowz and into the cold dark night, a warmth came over me. Was it the warmth of victory? No, Edwin had puked again, this time making sure to aim for me. Juan screamed something in Spanish, Alex screamed something about the national deficit, Slim screamed something about Edwin having to find his own way home, I screamed for ice cream. It was a good time.
And like all good things, this story too must come to an end, dear Muggheads. What better place to end it than with a good time with good friends? I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story as much as I have writing it! After ten chapters, Frosty’s Sober Saga has conclusively reached its conclusion!
Now go and have a drink to celebrate!
Don’t have to tell me twice! Here’s the link to the last chapter, now ol’ Frosty’s DONE!