"You, my dear, have the soul of a writer."
I cringed before glancing at him with a scowl. "You mean the soul of a poet?"
"No. God, no. You're the furthest thing from a poet. Whereas a poem has the capability of designing a truth endowed with ribbo...
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SEASONS DON'T FEAR THE REAPER
"How about this one," I started with a quick shot of whiskey, "a priest, a rabbi, an atheist, and...and a vampire walk into a bar. The bartender looks at them all and asks, 'What is this? Some kind of joke?' Ha, get it?"
Sam rolled his eyes, though still cracking a bemused smile. I laughed by myself.
My job wasn't very pleased that I missed my shift without any sort of notice, even less so when I told them the reason why. They tried to be polite in firing me, but I didn't necessarily wait around to listen.
Once I got home, Marshall was nodding off on the couch, drunk beyond recognition after staying back at the bar after our lunch. I snagged the lit cigarette waving between his fingers before he could light a hole in the couch. Another hole.
It rained on my walk over to Merlotte's. Upon entering, Sookie bounced over to me and grabbed my clammy hands, asking if I could make sure that Marshall calls her when he wakes up. It's important.
After I sat down at the bar, the drinking never stopped.
I tried again, "A priest, a rabbi-"
"So, I heard you found yourself in a bit of trouble today," Sam cut me off, not looking up from a damp rag that he slid over the bar top.
I cocked my head in honest puzzlement. "How'd you hear 'bout that?"
He glanced at me as he tossed the rag against the edge of the bar. "I hear everything, lil' girl." Hand on hip, eyebrows bunched together. "Cassie, what the hell happened? I got Andy up in here lookin' like someone insulted his momma, he was so angry." He took out a beer from the fridge—some local brew with an anime woman drenched in blood on the label—slapped it against the bottle opener, and took a fast swig before it sliding it over to me. "Seriously, I don't think makin' enemies with the police is such a good idea."
I looked at the dark green bottle, it's colorful and cartoony logo.
"I mean, now they got your profile. Now they know your name. Now you have a history with them."
I took a swig, grimacing. It was strong, bitter.
"You know he's just itchin' for an opportunity to take you in, right? You hurt the man's pride, you know how dangerous that can be?"
I didn't answer.
"Do you?"
I inhaled a breath. "A priest, a rabbi, an atheist-"
Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "How the hell are you so fuckin' drunk already?"
I didn't acknowledge that. "Hey, you hear about that standout or whatever that happened over in New Orleans?"
