In Vino Veritas

“Of course I’m staring,” he said.  ‘Nooooo!  You idiot!’ his drunken brain immediately shrieked.

In vino veritas.  Boy was that the truth.

He loved wine and imagined possessing a delicate palette.  He didn’t.  He only pretended to sniff, swirl and sip.  In truth, he guzzled wine.  Shamelessly.  And he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.  If only he could zip it or seal it with a steel plate.

Her slap stung.  Her boyfriend’s punches, plural, fucking killed.  Now his face throbbed.  His cheek was swollen, and he dabbed blood with a cocktail napkin.

In vino veritas indeed.  And headaches.


5 thoughts on “In Vino Veritas

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s