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The Devil’s Bottle

05 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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drinking too much

When I was a little kid my family and I lived

with my Grandad.

He lived in an old house with a huge front yard.

He was a nice old fellow but sometimes he was a

little distant.

A little bit moody

You knew to keep your distance.

He would sit in his front yard with his old

transistor blaring.

The Cricket live from England

Or his favourite football team was playing

Sometimes he would listen to his favourite songs

and sometimes he would sing along.

But sometimes he would get nasty and yell and

swear and cuss.

And us kids would run inside

My Grandad liked his Whiskey.

My Grandad had his favourite spot in his

front yard.

He would sit under a bid tree.

I think it was a Wattle.

On one of his bad days he wouldn’t go

near him.

He would just go crazy screaming and

yelling abuse.

My Mother would try to calm him down

but it was no use.

She said that the drinking from the Devils

bottle had thrown a screw loose.

When I was about 13 yrs old I had my first

taste of Beer.

I felt warm and fuzzy

and my face sort of glowed.

My Grandad has been dead for a few years

by now.

But I guess he has passed on his Genes.

I have had my first sip form the Devils bottle.

When I was about 18 I started to hang with a

mate named Allan

He had a girlfriend named Teena who was always

on about his drinking.

We both worked at the same place

But instead of food Allan would have two

long necks of Beer for lunch.

And driving home after work he would have

a couple more.

Even though I liked a Beer Allan drinking left

me for dead.

He would drink three to my one.

He would drink and drive

a long neck between his legs

He would drive like a mad man and once

or twice he dragged off the Cops.

I used to hang on for grim death hoping that

I would get out of that car alive.

Somehow he never crashed and I got to live

another day.

Allan lived his life at full throttle

He really liked that Devils bottle.

Around the same time the Devil tapped me

on the shoulder and said ‘Come with me’

I followed him down a dark path.

A path go’s nowhere.

Nowhere good that is.

He showed me his collection of bottles

And he told me to take my pick.

I reached out my hand

then pulled it back real quick.

Then I reached out again

The temptation was too much.

The Devils bottle tastes so sweet

like the early morning dew

or the nectar from a honey Bee.

Or the Devils bottle can taste like poison

and ruin your whole life.

There is a Devils bottle in every house

It is the bottle you have when you have already

drank too much

The bottle you drink before you drive your car

The bottle you drink before you hit your wife.

The bottle you drink before taking your kids to

school.

So put the bottle back on the shelf

you silly old fool.

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