Predicament

I have a hip flask of whiskey in my bag. It’s not mine I swear.

You see, we smuggle my sick mother whiskey in the hospital... (oh my god did you hear that, she smuggles liquor into hospitals!)

Anyway, she finished the bottle – except for a bit – and I took it in my bag [read: smuggled so the nurses didn’t see] to refill and send back with James today.

I forgot the bottle.

Probably because I was too busy pouring myself a wine and whining about my group work uni assignment.

The bottle is now standing up in my bag, laughing at me.

Laughing with its little shiny cap head.

Thankfully I had a tonne of plastic bags in my draw at work –

“I could bag it and hide the evidence!” I thought.

All of the plastic bags I have are the see-through vegetable kind.

The whiskey cap head thinks this is hilarious and laughs harder at me.

“Hazaah!” he shouts, “They can still see me under this bag!”

I lay it down under my uni reader and out of view.

It’s my favourite Mimco bag.

“What if it leaks?” I think, “Then I’ll smell like a rummy and my bag will be ruined!”

I stand the bottle back up in the corner of my bag.

I pull the edges together.

Still laughing at me.

“Maybe I should just add the whiskey to my coffee – destroy the evidence?”

I look at the liquid, it’s fairly substantial – possibly even increasing.

“No, can’t be drunk for my uni debate...”

“Hmm. Give it to a homeless guy?”

“No that’s ridiculous, he’ll probably swig the lot, smash the bottle on the pavement and use the glass shards to rob me of my Mimco bag.”

All the while, Little Mr Whiskey Cap Head is laughing uproariously and my mum is without her booze.

My poor sick mother!