Mar 20 2008

The Tale of the Littlest Drunk-Dialer

Once upon a time, there was a darling young boy named Cole. Cole was a happy boy, most of the time, and his Mother and Father loved him very much.

Cole was usually a healthy child, but one day he came down with a cold. It wasn’t a horrible cold; not deadly anyway. But Cole’s sleep suffered because of the awful coughing he had to endure at night when he laid his head on his pillow to sleep. His Mother was afraid that the dear boy would cough to vomiting, it was so bad.

So his Mother took it upon herself to devise a soothing concoction so that her darling young son could get some sleep. She had to be creative because the wizards of the land had recently called back all of the magic elixirs that she might have used before. Instead, she boiled some water; added lemon, ginger, and other soothing herbs; and stirred in a spoonful of golden honey. But, because she wanted to be absolutely sure that her cherished son got the sleep he needed, Cole’s Mother reached into the far recesses of her cabinets and pulled out a mysterious looking bottle of amber liquid.

Cole’s Mother knew that some people would say she was wrong to use this particular ingredient; that it was something that only those in great pain- physical or mental- would turn to, or those who had great trouble relaxing or getting laid. But Cole’s mother felt sure that, if she only used a very tiny amount, her son would find the comfort he needed to sleep without being harmed. So she tipped in a capful of the potent stuff and stirred all of the ingredients together.

Cole drank the healing brew happily, and his Mother didn’t notice a change at first. But then, when half of the cup had been ingested, Cole reached for his telephone, and his Mother knew she had made an awful mistake.

He called his Grandparents and his teachers; his neighbors and his friends. To each he professed his undying love, alternately crying and laughing hysterically. He kept calling and calling until his Mother, in her shameful fear, took the cup and phone away and put him to bed, where he slept soundly the whole night through.

And thusly was the Littlest Drunk-Dialer created.


  • By ticknart, March 20, 2008 @ 2:52 pm

    Best. Story. Ever!

  • By heels, March 20, 2008 @ 4:59 pm

    Why thank you!

  • By Ticknart's Mommy, March 24, 2008 @ 2:39 pm

    Fabulous story! This reminds me of a story I know from a time, long, long ago.

    Ticknart use to beg for sips from his grandmother’s wine glass, “Sip, pease” and lisp, “Mo’ beer” nodding toward his grandfather’s mug.

    His mother used to worry greatly about the strong possibility of her little darling growing up to be a lush, lying drunk in some stinky, filthy gutter. Then, one day, their good fairy neighbor decided to drive off the side of her driveway because she was too drink to walk down it to get her mail. Once at the bottom, she tried to drive straight into the hill, then attempted to drive backward over his two little brothers and their friend.

    Ticknart saw all this and swore off drinking.

  • By ticknart, March 24, 2008 @ 4:20 pm

    Actually, she nearly hit one little brother and little brother’s friend.

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