An Alternative Plan

“Mornin, Abe.” Morgan said, as he labored up the steps of Abe’s front porch. “You drinkin a beer this early?”

“No, just looking at the bottle.”

“Why you doin that?”

“Doc put me on a diet.” Abe gently rocked the love seat and kept his eyes on the bottle. ”Says I can’t drink beer for a while.”

“You? On a diet?” Morgan squeezed himself into a metal chair opposite Abe.

“Yeah. Doc Brown says I need to lose twenty-five pounds. My blood pressure and cholesterol are high.” Abe looked at Morgan. “And I can’t eat pizza, so I carry a picture of one in my pocket.” Abe unfolded the Pizza Hut advertisement and showed Morgan.

“Ain’t that un-American?” Morgan crossed his ankles and leaned back, his t-shirt rising to expose a lint-filled belly button. “Maybe Congress should pass a law makin it illegal for doctors to stop Americans from drinkin beer and eatin pizza.”

Abe shrugged.

“So why’re you lookin at the bottle?”

“You know how people trying to stop smoking walk around with an unlit cigarette in their mouth to help them get over their cravings?”

“Sure. Mabel did that for a while.”

“I thought maybe if I carried the bottle and picture around, it would help with mine. By the way, how is your wife?”

“Still smokin.” Morgan scratched his crotch, inched forward in the chair and grabbed the bottle. He twisted the top off, took a swig of the amber liquid, then spit it out--mostly on Abe.

“It’s warm,” Morgan said.

“I’ve been carrying it around for a couple of days.”

“Well you shoulda said so. Why’nt you go inside and get a cold one?”

“But I can’t drink—”

“Well, I ain’t on no diet, and all this talk about beer made me thirsty.”

Abe went inside, returned with a new bottle and handed it to Morgan.

“Ah, that’s better,” Morgan said after downing half the bottle. “Sure you don’t want some?”

Abe started to reach for the bottle and stopped. “If I drink some, I’ll want more.”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan said. “It’s only beer.”

Abe walked to the railing, crossed his arms on his chest and stared at the house across the street.

“I can’t do it,” Abe said. “I’ve come this far. I’m going to stick to the plan.”

“Whatever you say, Abe. Mind if I have another?”

Abe strode into the house and returned with the remainder of a six-pack. “I bought these the day before I saw the doctor.” He held out the carton. “You can finish them.”

Abe leaned on the railing and watched Morgan uncap a new bottle and take a swig. He started to take a mental picture of his friend, but stopped. Instead, he pulled the pizza ad from his shirt pocket and crumpled it into a ball, readying it for the trash.

Return to My Stories.

Contact me regarding this story.