Drunken Memories

Story by Chase_UC on SoFurry

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#2 of Sweet Nothing

Well, here's chapter 2, this one is slightly longer than the first chapter and also has better dialogue and descriptions. No long intros this time, I just hope you enjoy the story. :D


He stood there, on the wet street, tottering around due to the amount of alcohol he drank. Moving left and right, he almost fell on the hard concrete but managed to grab a nearby lightpost to keep his balance. He was furious at the old wolf.

„Old sack of shit... what's he even... doing here...", he kept mumbling to himself, making long pauses between words. „He should be in a fucking... retirement home... not in a bar... stealing shit and kissing waitresses..."

He leaned over the road, lost contact with the lightpost and fell down in a small water puddle left over from the rain.

Whooo! I'm wet! He thought to himself, letting out a small giggle.

He heard a sound. It sounded like a horn to him, but he wasn't sure. He looked right - nothing. He looked left - he saw a truck coming at him. The sound kept getting louder and louder, but instead of running to safety, he kept looking at the truck and smiled.

Yes... yes!

At the last moment, the truck driver swerved into the opposite lane and avoided the drunk fox laying down on the road, which made him extremely angry.

„Why... why didn't you end it there... why do I have to go through so much suffering?! Why... didn't you run me over and end my... my miserable life?! Why didn't you free me from these shackles... of guiltiness?!" he kept screaming out loud, hoping that someone would hear his cry for death.

But there was no one who could hear him. Everyone was inside their homes, out of the cold, moist weather. He kept looking at the truck, which was now a small dot on the horizon, cursing it.

„You fucking..." he trailed off, noticing his reflection in the water puddle under him. He kept starring at the puddle for several seconds, noticing the other fox in the water.

„Hello there... aren't you a pretty... face?", he said to himself. „On second thought...You're ugly as hell..."

He burst into laughter, realizing that it was him he was looking at. „Ahaha, I'll get up... too early to die, Foxy... besides... there are more... creative ways... to die...", still laughing, he barely got up and stumbled towards the wall of the pub, leaning his face against it.

„So dizzy...", he looked at the bar doors. „Woah... four doors? I saw only... two... before...". He made his way to the doors, noticing that the door knobs kept moving. „Fuck... they're moving!", he said to himself in a surprised voice.

He tried to grab one of the door knobs only to grab hold of nothing but brushing his hand against the wooden surface of the door. „It was there... I swear, it was... there!"

„Oh, I see... i'm seeing double!", he burst out laughing again, punching the door with his fist and looking through the small glass window on the door. „Kevin! Kevin, you sack o' shit... your whiskey... is a great drug!", he kept yelling at him through the door and laughing hysterical.

„I know you can hear me... I know you can... I know you..." he trailed off before falling down on the floor. "Should have... kept the bottle..." He felt his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier, as if he was about to fall asleep.

No.. you can't sleep here... go home Fox...

„Where... is my home?", he asked himself curiously. „I think I live in a cardboard box...", chuckling, he managed to get up, leaning his whole body against the wall of the bar.

„Let's go Fox... one step at a time... you can do it...", he kept encouraging himself. „It's not that far away... I think"

Slowly, but surely, he was making his way towards his apartment which was a street away from the bar. Still drunk and still dizzy, he kept walking down the street, with his body leaned on the wall to prevent him from falling. He noticed that he was getting very cold, and started wondering why.

„I'm soaked...", he told himself and noticed that small drops of water were falling from the sleeves of his jacket. „At least I washed off... the touch from that old wolf... or something..."

He stopped and took off his jacket and looked at it closely. „Ha, didn't know I had so many holes in it!", he made a smile and started counting holes in his jacket.

„One... three, wait, no... two... did I say one...?", he kept pointing his finger at the holes in his jacket to count them, but he could barely think properly. „Four... five... ah, fuck it!", he said angrilly and shook the jacket to get rid of remaining drops of water on it.

Where do I put this... he kept wondering, but different thoughts kept jumping into his head. I'll probably tie it around my waist.

He did so and continued walking, but noticed that he's still cold. „It's f-freezing... at least i'm not wet... I think... and th-they say that alcohol makes you feel... hot... I drank two whiskeys and i'm cold as a... a fridge...", he said in a slightly shivering voice.

That was a retarded comparison... he thought to himself, before noticing a cold and wet feeling in his legs.

He bent down and noticed that his trousers were completely wet. „Can't take those off... or can I?" A thought jumped into his head that made him giggle.

Now that would attract the ladies... then again, it would also attract the police...

„Dammit... I'd rather sleep in my apartment... not in a jail cell...", finally a reasonable thought entered his head.

I wonder if I have any beer in my apartment...

Finally, he could see the building in which he lived. It was old and dirty, with chunks of the facade missing at certain parts. It only had four floors with no balconies and two small windows for each apartment. Fox's apartment could be easily recognized - it was the ugliest one. Since he had practically no money, he couldn't afford a better apartment. His apartment had only one window, since it was in the process of renovation before Fox moved in. It even had different colors. The whole buildings facade was colored green, but his apartment had a mixture of green and purple colors, with the exception of the facade around the windows which fell off, leaving huge chunks of grey colored concrete underneath them. The building wasn't the only thing that looked ruined. Left of the building were three dumpsters that were overflowing with trash, while some of the trash was scattered around them. The dumpsters were rusty, some even broken and with missing parts. The whole neighborhood in which Fox lived wasn't nice either. It had the unfriendly feel to it. He never felt safe walking through his neighborhood, so he'd spend most of the time in his apartment, either watching TV or laying on the bed.

Home at last...

Still dizzy, he made his way to the apartments door, almost loosing his balance due to the broken floor in front and around the buildings entrance.

„Whoever made this shit... should fix it... before I break my leg...", a selfish thought, but he mostly cared about himself right now, althought he didn't care about his life, it seems.

In front of the door, he noticed a small text written out on a single piece of duct tape that was placed on the dirty plastic surface of the door.

„P-pull... or is it push...", he kept looking at the text closely, almost sticking his face to the door. „I... I can't remember..."

As hard as he tried, he couldn't read the text, since everything he saw was doubled.

„I think it's... push? Well... let's try and find out...", he grabbed the door knob and placed his shoulder on the door frame to push it, since the frame was very rusty and required force to be moved.

First time he tried, the door wouldn't budge, the only noticable thing was a loud screeching noise coming from the door.

„Ya piece of shit!", he said angrilly and rammed the door violently, opening it and instantly loosing balance, since the amount of force he used was more than enough to open it.

Tottering around, he failed to balance himself and he fell face first on the hard, broken up ceramic floor, loosing conscious.

Foooox! Fox, wake up! Rise and shine, sweety, it's nine in the morning.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, only to see a beautiful, purple furred vixen sitting next to him. He observed the room around him. He could remember it clearly - it was his room on Great Fox!

Krystal... Krystal, is that you?! Krystal!

Yes, my love, it's me.

She made a small giggle, bent over and kissed his lips slowly, grabbing his right paw firmly in her paw. He felt like he was in heaven.

Then, she broke contact with his lips, looked at him with her beautiful sapphire eyes and a cute smile on her face.

Krys-

Before he could finish his thought, she put her finger on his lips and slowly kissed his forehead.

Sshhh, Fox, be quiet.

She stood up, breaking eye contact with him and started to slowly walk away from him and towards what seemed to be a black rectangle on the wall. Instinctively, he tried to get up to follow her, but he couldn't. He couldn't move any part of his body, it's like everything below his head was paralyzed. He watched her move closer to the black rectangle.

Krystal! Krystal, don't leave me! I'm sorry for everything I've done, don't leave me, please! Come back! He said in a panicking and a begging voice.

She turned around, looking in his wide open eyes and put her hand on the black surface and slowly pulled it towards her. Fox was blinded by white light that flooded the whole room, which seemed to come from the black rectangle that she touched.

Fox. Wake up.

She said in a calm seductive voice and a loving smile on her face, breaking eye contact with him and entering the white light.

KRYSTAL! COME BACK! PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME! NOOOO!

After she disappeared, the light started swallowing the whole room, becoming brighter and brighter. Fox tried to scream for help, but he felt like his lips were glued shut.

The white light flooded the room. Everything was quiet. Nothing could be heard. The silence was broken by a quiet whisper.

Wake up, Fox, wake up.

He opened his eyes. Something cold was touching his left cheek. He moved his right arm up to his face to get up. He felt something warm on his paw. He looked at it and saw blood. He quickly stood up, almost falling down again, and looked at the floor. It was bloody.

W-w-what the fuck?!

Immediately, he felt a sharp pain in his head and nose. He grabbed his face with his left arm, only to notice blood on it.

„My head... I... i'm bleeding... w-what happened?"

He grabbed the hanging sleeve of his jacket and wiped his nose with it - blood. He hurt his nose in the fall which was now bleeding.

He looked up to see where he was. He saw stairs right in front of him. He turned around. He saw an open door. He finally realized what happened.

„God... that was a hard fall...", he kept touching his forehead and felt a small bruise on it. „Fucking hell..."

But... but what was that... dream? What was that? Where did Krystal come from?!

Drunk, bloodied and bruised up, he decided to go to his apartment before injuring himself even further. Slowly, he made his way up the stairs, clenching the guardrail firmly with both his hands. He lived on the third floor, it was a long walk. He kept thinking what to say to his neighbors if any of them saw him. They are used to seeing him drunk, but he never returned to his apartment with a bloody nose and a bruise on his forehead. The last thing he wanted to do was to explain how he got them. Although the small puddle of blood downstairs might make some people suspicious.

Finally, he got to his apartment, apartment number 7. He hated his apartment because of that. Number seven was supposed to bring him luck and happiness, both of which he never had in his life.

He placed his left paw next to the door, while he searched his pockets for the apartments key.

„Where did I put it...", he kept talking to himself. „I hope that old asshole didn't steal it as well..." That thought sent shivers through his spine..

„Ah, yes, here it is!", he finally found them in the left pocket of his trousers. It was an old, grey colored key with quite a bit of rust on it. It had the number seven pressed into the base of the key.

He tried putting the key into the keylock, but he was constantly missing. His eyes were tricking him into thinking that the keyhole was in a different position, just as he saw everything doubled.

God dammit, come on!

Finally, he placed it in the keyhole. He turned the key three times to the right, and heard a „click" sound.

Home at last...

He put his right hand on the knob and opened the door, but something caught his attention before entering the apartment. He looked at the left side of the door frame and saw a bloody print in the shape of his paw. It reminded him about his previous injury and his bloody nose, which, unfortunately, also reminded him of the pain which he didn't feel until now since he was busy searching for his key.

„I'll have to clean that up later", he said to himself before finally entering his apartment. „God, my head..."

It was a small apartment, with only a living room in which the kitchen was located, a bedroom and a small bathroom. He was inside the living room which smelled like beer and was really messy. Clothes could be seen thrown on the floor, beer bottles and pizza boxes scattered everywhere around the room. The dishes were unwashed and were stinking of rotten food, the couch was full of filthy marks from food, mostly ketchup. The bedroom wasn't any better either. The bed didn't have any sheets on it, it was just a filthy matrace with a ripped up pillow on one end and a small wooden cabinet left of the bed with a lamp and some framed pictures. The bathroom was a total mess. The toilet looked like it hadn't been flushed in ages, with a missing plastic seat. The bathtub was covered in scales with a rusty shower head hanging from the shower head holder. The shower wasn't usable, since the water pipes that lead to the bathtub and the shower were ruptured and kept leaking inside the walls. The sink was probably the most non-dirty surface in the whole house. It still had the white color and the ceramic undamaged. There was a small cabinet with a mirror above the sink that was full of dust and lots of creams, mostly for shaving. There was a single edged razor as well, but it was rusty and full of orange hairs.

He untied his jacket and threw it on the dirty couch, heading straight for the bathroom. The bathroom didn't have a door, just like the bedroom. There was just a door frame for each room. They weren't really separated. As soon as he entered the bathroom, he pressed a small switch on the right side of the wall to turn on the light. A "click" sound could be heard and after a few seconds, the light turned on, although it kept flickering every few seconds. Fox was pretty much a cave bat in his apartment. He'd rarely turn on the lights to keep the monthly costs of renting the apartment as low as possible.

"So much blood..." he kept looking at the mirror in front of him and at his paws. He grabbed some toilet paper and wipped both of his paws with it and threw it in the sink. He got rid of some blood, but the majority of it already solidified on his fur. He turned on the water tap to rinse his face and his paws. Slowly, he started rubbing his nose with the ice cold wated, dyeing the sink in red color. After a few minutes, the blood was gone. He took a towel and pressed it firmly against his nose to see if he's still bleeding, as painful as it was. Few seconds later he removed the towel from his face and looked at it.

"A few drops of blood, but I think I'm okay... the bleeding stopped"

He turned off the water tap and threw the towel on a small piece of metal which looked like a toilet paper holder. Most of the time, he would place the toilet paper right next to the water tap, usually making it soggy and wet. He looked in the mirror again and noticed the small bruise above his left eye. He could still feel it hurt, even though the ice cold water killed some of the pain.

"Crap... I better put some ice on that" he said while moving his fingers across the bump on his forehead.

He slowly turned around, pressed the switch to turn off the light and entered the living room. There was no need to turn on the light in the living room since there was some daylight outside coming through the one, big window. The only window in his apartment.

"Huh... I don't feel dizzy anymore... I can walk properly now..." he noticed. "Either the cold water refreshed my brain or I'm becoming immune to alcohol", a smile formed on his face. "I'm probably becoming immune to alcohol".

He made his way to the fridge to see if there was anything frozen that he coud place on the bruise. He opened the fridge and looked inside.

"Hm... no frozen food... or any food for that matter..." He then opened the freezer. "Eh... some ice... not much, but still enough to ease my pain." He looked around to see if there was anything that he can put the ice in. He saw an old plastic grocery bag.

Perfect!

He quickly picked up the bag and put several pieces of ice inside of it, wrapped it up tightly and placed it on his forehead.

The things I'd do for a bottle of painkillers...

He walked over to his room and sat on his bed. He could now walk easily, talk easily and see easily. Seems like the alcohol didn't affect him anymore. It was still daylight, but he felt like going to sleep. Still sitting, he saw a framed picture of Krystal on the cabinet next to his bed. He picked it up.

"Oh baby, why do you keep entering my dreams? What was that earlier? Why did you walk away from me? I'm sorry for everything I've done, and I guess I deserve the mental torture.", he kept talking to the picture.

"I just wish that they'd last longer, so that I can see you more clearly, even if it's just a dream! It's painful when you're so close to me, yet so far away. I've changed so much since I kicked you off the team, I know that you're probably happier with Panther, but I still love you."

"I keep getting drunk just thinking about you, I even fell into a depression! I feel like killing myself at times, and that feeling intensifies when I get drunk. But I can't stop drinking, it's the only thing that can make me happy.", tears started flowing down his cheeks.

"I've got no one to talk to. Hell, I'll talk to anyone about my life, even to people that I don't know. I'm lonely, I don't have anyone. I feel better when I talk to someone, when I tell them my life problems and when they understand me..."

Now I'm talking to a picture about my life problems...

"I hope that one day we'll be together again.", he kissed the picture and put it back on the cabinet. "Good night, my love".

He laid back on the bed, still holding the pack of ice on his forehead, slowly drifting away to sleep.