AN EQUALLY VULGAR TIPPLE
by Tari Gwaemir
A drunken conversation.
"My hand is shaking. Why is my hand shaking?" Vash wondered as he attempted to pour himself another shot of whiskey.
"Because you're drunk," Wolfwood informed him with an accusing finger. "You're wildly drunk, and there's more whiskey on the table than in that glass. Hand the bottle over."
Vash downed the shotglass and eyed it sadly. "I'm not drunk."
"Oh yes you are. Isn't that the point? As for me, I'm not drunk enough." Wolfwood made a grab for the bottle but missed as Vash teetered precariously on the edge of his stool.
"I'm not drunk. I'm in-tox-i-cat-ed." Vash leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "Look, the stars are singing."
"You can't see the stars when you're inside, you idiot."
"Oh, they're there, and they're singing." Vash suddenly grabbed Wolfwood by the collar and pulled him close. "Listen," he hissed.
Wolfwood stared blearily at him, hearing nothing but the sound of their own breathing.
"Can't you hear it?"
He shook his head. Vash released him.
"Better that you don't."