Monty: I’m not drunk…

“I’m NOT FRUNK! Not at *all*! dunk… drunk…”

Monty slurred, waving a finger for emphasis. He decided that being upright was entirely too much trouble, so half-sat, half-fell to the ground, whereupon he started giggling gently to himself.

Molly glared at him.

“Get your sorry backside *up* off the floor, or I will personally see to it that your life won’t be worth living.”

She reached down to grab hold of him under one arm, then stood again quickly as he made a retching noise and doubled over.

“I’m so sorry sir, ” she apologised, running one hand through her hair. “He’s been out celebrating. He doesn’t normally get like this.”

“Don’t worry miss, I understand. But he can’t stay here.” The security guard looked up and down the street, one hand on his torch.

“I’m going to have to insist that you get him out of here, or I’ll have to call the police.” He looked apologetic.

Molly smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take him home and sort him out. Seriously, he is going to regret getting this drunk.”

She prodded Monty with the toe of her high heeled shoes.

“Especially if he throws up on this dress. It’s brand new.”

Molly was wearing a little black number which clearly cost more than the guard made in a year. She gave a little wiggle, and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do you like it?”

He blushed furiously before nodding.

“I don’t suppose you could be a dear and give me a lift with him? My car is just over there.” She nodded towards a black BMW parked under a street lamp on the other side of the road. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Please?”

The guard reached down and put his arms under Monty’s, hauling him to his feet. Monty belched, and giggled again. He reeked of whisky, making the guard’s eyes water.

“I love you,” said Monty. “You’re my mate, aren’t you?” He nestled his head against the guard’s shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.

Molly lead the way over to her car, opened the passenger door and helped Monty’s new best friend to get his unconscious load into the seat. She thanked the guard again, blew him a kiss, then got into the car herself.

She watched as the young man made his way back across the road to the office building. He swiped at the security sensor, looked back over his shoulder, then went inside.

Monty cracked one eye open. “Is he gone? Did you get it?”

Molly grinned, turned the key in the ignition and the BMW roared into life.

“Of course I got it. Lifted his security pass while you were cuddling him and cloned it on this.” She fished a PDA out of her purse and waved it at him. “It’s all in here.”

“You’re a marvel, you know that?”

“Learned from the master. You made a lovely couple, by the way. ”

Monty grinned. “Well, he was kinda cute…”

Author: dave

Book reviewer, occasional writer, photographer, coffee-lover, cyclist, spoon carver and stationery geek.

3 thoughts on “Monty: I’m not drunk…”

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