this is not what it looks like, seriously

Last night Peter calls and says he left his bottle of Maker’s Mark in my freezer. I have a lady friend over and do not want Peter rolling up into my date. And by date i mean, forcing her to sit in my hot computer room and drink wine with me. I grab Peter’s Makers Mark from the freezer, glass of wine in other hand and walk outside to give it to him.

My neighbors who know im a raging alcoholic, are out on their porch. I wave to them and hand peter the brown paper bag and he drives off. Any FBI operatives watching and photographing just file it under “drug deal”. My neighbors stare and i try to make small talk, mostly slurring and probably making zero sense, and go back inside.

Im just waiting for the walls of my life to crumble down and wake up in Gitmo.

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