The writer's glazed brown eyes met the barber's dark lolling orbs. The writer drunkenly snatched up a Jack Daniels bottle and sloshed the liquid into his own shot glass and then into the barbers. The barber suppressed a burp, and garbled "I can take one more if you want to quit?" and edge of sarcasm in his voice.
"No way man, I can finish a whole 'nother bottle." Mort replied. Sweeney stared him in the eyes competitively again and they both raised the glasses to their mouths. Choking down the harsh alcohol, Sweeney's lip twitched and Mort's already red eyes grew redder. Mort finished his first and slammed the glass on the cluttered table triumphantly."Hah!" he blared loudly. "That's the third bottle, I win!"
"Shut up… you'll wake the whole bloody house!" Sweeney shouted woozily as the shot glass slipped from his wet lips to hang limply from his hand.
"Don't yell at me!" Mort rose to his seat suddenly, but wobbled and blinked his dilated eyes to get his bearings. "Shouldn't stand up so fast…" the writer mused, his hand lightly rubbing his lids.
"It's your fault, you started yelling first." Sweeney said looking up at the writer with streaming eyes. Mort wandered off a few feet toward one of Jack's unopened rum bottles buried on the couch just to the left of the kitchen table.
"How 'bout another one?" He smiled stupidly and for a moment Sweeney thought it not wise to touch Jack's beloved rum, but, but…
"Gimmie that…" Sweeney grasped for the bottle but Mort pulled it out from his way. The barber rose to his feet and strode toward him threateningly. "You 'ave been hogging all the whisky, now give me that bloody bottle!" His voice rose a bit in his drunken state and he fumbled for his razor.
"Hey man, don't come near me with that thing." Mort raised his hands in defense and backed away a bit. "Alright, here." The writer reluctantly tossed the rum to the barber who then ripped the cork from the top and took a swig. His brown eyes bulged and swam; Sweeney sat back in the chair and let out a huge burp. Mort burst out in raucous laughter.
"Nice man, silent but deadly, whew!" Mort chuckled. He stumbled back into his seat across from the barber, then after gathering his strength let out a huge belch of his own, Mort could almost see the bubbles erupting from his mouth in the dim light of the one lamp above the table. Sweeney looked up and slammed the rum down on the table. Licking his lips Sweeney beat back Mort's burp with one of his own. Their glittering eyes met for a moment.
"Contest?" Sweeney garbled
"You're on." Mort challenged.