Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-27303410-20190116000125/@comment-36855838-20190116020013

I take another sip of my lemonade, designated driver for 10 years, and no regrets yet.

"Hey, Mike, y'got a minute?"

He's busy nursing his drink and crying into his handkerchief, but I eventually manage to peel him away from the table and walk him to the restroom.

I walk him through the men's room to the recovery lounge, a place with a better name than seats.

Hard stools line the walls, and two couches sit opposite the doorways, long worn by the passage of many thousands of patrons throughout the years.

I lay him on one, and take a seat on the other.

"You know this isn't healthy, Mike."

He says nothing.

"She's clearly already in love, If you hadn't waited so long, she might've said yes, y'know?"

He glared at me.

"Oh, really? And what makes you the authortitty on these things?"

I blink.

"What?"

He sniffles.

"Since when's you the expert on lovin'?"

I sigh.

"I'm not, Mike-"

"I know you're not, I am!"

My voice lowers to a growl.

"Mike, shut up! I dunno if you noticed, but your childhood crush is a succubus, if you weren't gonna pick up the pace, she damn well was!"

He stared into the distance, silent.

"Look, Mike, I think you need some rest, at your house."

He shuffles around.

"Mike, you've stirred yourself a lot of trouble, y'know that? There's a small army of hot ladies in that bar, and I'm sure at least one of them is lookin' for 'damaged goods.'"

He stands, looking at me in confusion.

"What d'you mean?"

I pull him over.

"Okay, so here's what I saw, Mike. When you said you were 'friendzoned' I saw oni abandon their drinks."

He scoffs at me.

"Yeh, so whad?"

"The blue oni threw her drink on the floor, Mike."

That sobered him up.

"Oh."

I sat back.

"Yeah."

Silence settled, a long, awkward silence.

Frank, the owner, stalked in, and plopped down on a stool in the corner.

Frank was one of the oldest people in town, aside from the few undead who lived with their husbands in secluded cottages and manors, and had insisted on being called Frank even after a certain drunk succubus got way too clingy back in 968.

"Heya, Frank!"

Mike gave a weak wave, which she stoically returned.

"Hey there Mike! Y'been okay back here?"

He nodded, wiping at his face with the-now soaked-handkerchief.

In a flash, Frank was on him, pulling out her own handkerchief from a valley pf cleavage deep enough to rival The Marianas.

She quickly set to dabbing at his face, whispering an old bedtime omen.

Wherever you may go, your home is here.

Your soul may go to heaven, but your bones shall rest here.

Wherever you go, you can always come home.

He began to breathe easier, and slowly drifted off into Frank's arms.

"There, I'll call you a cab so he can get home safe, I care about you boys."

I waved as she left the room.

Mike snored, at last able to rest.

I'd have to take him to visit his mother the next day, she always cheered him up.

And it had been so long sinve we'd laid flowers at her grave.

She had been planting them all over the cemetery ever since she became a ghoul.