“Will you get down from there?” I hiss.
There’s sirens in the distance.
“No!” he yells, head tilted towards the sky.
How can he sound so forceful while being so, soo, sooooo intoxicated?
“I’m king of the fucking mountain and the rest of you are…” he pauses. “What’s those bugs? The little ones that bite?”
“Ants?” Why am I feeding this?
“Those fuckers!” he crows. “You’re all ants!”
“Bow to your King!” he crows, head tilted back in ecstasy.
The sirens get closer.
“Well your majesty,” I even give him a bow, “Those sirens are cops.
You need to get off of that statue and put at least some of your clothing back on and move as far away from that bar as possible.”
“Gimme a kiss if I come down?” he slurs.
“Is that a question?”
“Demand.” he smiles in what I’m sure he thinks is a charming manner. “A demand from your benevol… benever… “ he stops. “Fuck. Your King!” he crows the last part.
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