I didnt believe in the Walker Curse at first, but I was beginning to think it was a possibility. Could Pop and his three sons really be cursed? Were we all to be doomed by Satans Booze Beast, or could we be saved?
I pictured the Booze Beast as having the body of a monkey but the head of a fierce Pit Bull. His eyes blood red with black vertical slits, like a cat. He had razor sharp claws instead of hands, hooves for feet and a long whip-like tail. The black fur on his back bristled when he wanted booze while his claws tore at my soul and his hooves, kicking the hell out of my guts, all to the crack-crack-cracking of that tail and the shrill high-pitched screeching that rang in my ears. This was his way of telling me he was thirsty. More often than not I was in the throes of a massive hangover, hurting for a drink, and I would succumb to his damned screeching.
There arent many ways besides total abstinence to quiet the beast, but I tried--tried to fool him by drinking club soda with a squeeze of lime. It wasnt that bad, but after a couple of those he went completely berserk. He wouldnt stop tormenting me until I added a double shot of vodka. Next I substituted vodka with a low alcohol white wine. He wasnt amused or satisfied and kicked the hell out of me. I experimented with various combinations until I came upon the two-drink solution.
Each of us has an I.Q. (Intelligence Quotient) but I discovered that I also had an A.Q. (Alcohol Quotient). It must have been pretty high because I realized I knew a lot about the drug, alcohol. The challenge was to put that knowledge to good use. I had read one definition of being an alcoholic was any drinker who consumed more than five ounces of alcohol a day. I came to the conclusion that if I wanted to avoid the roaring horroras and dreadful hangovers that followed, Id have to find just the right trade-off between the amount of alcohol and the intensity of the hangovera ratio so to speak.
Once I worked up as much resolve as I could muster and went two days without a drinkcold turkey. The Booze Beast was going crazy but on the morning of the third day I felt greatuntil around five in the afternoon. By then I was becoming a basket case. I remembered that five-ounce theory and mixed a two-ounce vodka martini straight up with a twist. It went down so nicely I had four more and a pretty gross hangover the next morning. That night I had three instead of five and experienced only a mild hangover. The Booze Beast seemed to be satisfied.
On the third night I had two martinis, one before dinner and one after. I found that if I had them on the rocks with plenty of ice, sipped rather than gulped, I could make them last over three hours. The next morning, vola, NO HANGOVER! Thus the two-drink solution was born. The Booze Beast knew something was up. He wasnt screaming, but he wasnt happy, either. I felt he was worried Satan would fire him. That was a few years ago, and the Beast has since left me. He may be lurking out there somewhere hoping to be assigned to another Walker. I hope and pray it wont be you, Luke.
The two-drink solution works for me, and maybe by some definition I am an alcoholic because I drink almost every day, but I wouldnt recommend my experimentation to any recovering alcoholic. I firmly believe that first drink will lead to dozens more and drive them back to the days before detox, rehab and the very helpful AA meetings.
Have I defied the Walker Curse? I dont know. All I know is I wasted a good part of my life, a lot of money, and I went through a lot of pain and suffering before God saw fit to show me a path away from the Booze Beast. I hope and pray that you follow the same path and never experience the roaring horroras, zingers, blackouts and the painful hangovers that sap your courage and ambition. I hope you never hear the rustling of those waiting angel feathers.
|