"Boohoo boo hoo! BOOOOHOOOHOOOOOOOO-!
At the bar, the drinker sat on the barstool she had always sat on, with one hand propping her cheek up. With the other, she lazily stirred her drink, rocking the bottom of the mug in a slow, circular motion.
She stared with boredom at the wondrous contents within- the nectar of the gods, some may say- sloshing back and forth smoothly. With every movement the glass mug gleamed a soft blue light at a certain angle from both the neon light of the bar and the soft white glow of the ceiling lamps further behind her.
"Boooooohoooohooooooooooo-!"
Normally she would've already chugged it all down and got the bartender to refill, but today was different. The smell was no longer enticing, and the anticipation had long since been suppressed underneath a new variable in this daily life of drinking.
She didn't even bother to give a glance at this "new variable" who began crying beside her.
"I keep trying to- 𝘩𝘪𝘤- get a date, ya' know! 𝘚𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘧! I'm in my late twenties! W-where are all the decent good guys? In the last date, I thought the guy I was going out with was honest, sweet, and that he'll- 𝘩𝘪𝘤- never do anything to hurt me-"
"Uh huh. Yeah. I see," the drinker murmured, and then finally took a sip of the fine stuff, only to frown. Why did today's drink taste so different? She definitely didn't order a different one, and James knew what she preferred. The bartender wouldn't have the guts to swap it out…would he?
The woman beside her began to complain even more, with words going in one ear, and the other going out the other.
Poor girl, this is the curse of this universe- or rather "era." The one natural rule engraved into the universe's law: only lesbians matter. Any straight couple is a background character, nonexistent, separated, or dead. The good few that currently exist, are alive, and could only be counted by one's own hands are already taken.
The petite drinker suddenly paused, frowned, and raised her hand to her eyes. Her hand began to rotate, and her fingers curved one by one, thoughtfully counting and examining her own fingers.
Actually, maybe it's just only one hand?
"Where are the- 𝘩𝘪𝘤- good guys!" The natural outburst suddenly boomed like a sudden storm right into her poor eardrums, and the poor drinker sighed.
"Sister, please. They're guys. What more needs to be said?"
Hmm, there's Welt, Kevin, Siegfried- nah that guy's a pervert…is he? Hmm. Otto? By definition he's a true romantic, but a good guy? Hmmm...
"Why can't I- 𝘩𝘪𝘤- find anyyyyyyy-!"
No, he's definitely not a good guy. Nuh uh. What was the word again? Ah, yes, 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭. Romantic to. Perhaps if Kallen was still alive, then perhaps Otto can be-
Suddenly, the creaking sound of a stool being sat on...creaked. The drinker glanced to the side, and saw a guy who just smoothly sat next to them- by the drunk woman more specifically- and smiled at them- no, smiled at the seemingly vulnerable drunk woman. Nice looking face, well-defined chin, charming eyes that pulls the soul in, stylish hair and clothes, a gold watch around his left wrist- clearly an affluent veteran. Veteran? Veteran of what some may have not asked? A veteran of what's about to happen-
"Hey baby-" the man began in a deep, charming voice.
"Nope."
The drinker twirled her fingers and the guy slowly and robotically stood back up and left as quickly as he came. She then sighed again and shifted on her seat slightly.
Never mind, this time her judgement was far off the mark like a stormtrooper's aim. Not a veteran. Or perhaps the guy was a veteran of being rejected and awful? Anyhow, was this the seventh guy? Eighth? No wonder this woman couldn't find any good ones. Only the lustful idiots would be attracted to her like a swarm of flies around a ripe fruit.
And rightfully so no less. The woman was good eye candy.
"Sister, I get you," the drinker murmured, her voice somewhat muffled as the mug briefly touched her lips. "Truly, I do. However, you're-"
She paused as the drunk woman blew her nose into a tissue.
"-getting too drunk," she finished.
"...kettle calling the pot black," the drunk woman said nasally in between her nose blowing. Taking advantage of the silence before the storm that is a torturous rant about boys being unfaithful and whatnot, she slammed her hand onto the table. "Hey, James! A glass of water for this poor woman!"
The drinker ignored all the whining and complaining sent towards her as the familiar bartender attended to her needs in a matter of seconds.
"Dear customer, for a reminder, please do not slam on the table. It is very expensive," he said suavely, placing the cup of water and just as quickly taking the other, much to the drunk woman's dismay.
"I can slam the damn table whenever I want!" the drinker yelled, waving her somewhat small fist in the air. "I never heard of a rule where I can't slam the table!"
"What happened to being simply polite?" the bartender calmly refuted with a raised eyebrow. "Having understanding? Proper courtesy?"
The drinker sneered. Really? In this day and age? She couldn't help it. She wanted to laugh outright. She really did, truly. At this point, she also really couldn't, as the familiar feeling swelled within her along with nine hundred and ninety-nine regrets, and it nearly sobered her right up.
Really, such an intoxicating feeling, akin to the devil's whisper, made her feel disgustingly 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.
"That bullshit is for the weak. Rules are there not to protect the weak, but to let the powerful control them! I know this experience first, second, third- all the way up to a thousandth hand!"
The bartender sighed, his carefully brushed mustache twitching. "Please, dear customer, don't do this agai-"
"Nay, I shall do what I want to do, say what I want to say, and…um…and-!"
"It's not just finding good dates is what I'm worried about," the drunk woman softly groaned. "Not only that, I'm- 𝘩𝘪𝘤- worried about my new students too! They-"
As the incident grew more and more louder, soon they became attracting attention as a few heads turned their way, and then another, and then more. The bar became rowdy as usual, and the jeering, cheering, yelling, laughing, roaring- the atmosphere was filled with excitement.
Soon, the drinker felt the excitement was about to reach its peak- the climax. Thus, it's time to finally reveal the real reason why she did all of this.
Suddenly, the drinker stood up, and the ball stool was pushed back, creating a loud, ear-crushing scraping sound. It then tipped over, and fell onto the floor, making a somewhat loud 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘥 noise.
If everyone's attention wasn't on her, then now it's certain.
"Thus, with all that righteous reasoning and utter bullshit I'm spouting supporting me, that means my tab should be on the house!"
The music stopped playing, and all other various noises or sounds that didn't really matter came to a stop. Many pairs of eyes focused on the petite figure- those who were originally paying attention, and those who turned their way towards the sound of the stool crashing onto the ground.
All seemed to fall silent before her statement, stunned, as though it was the word of the Lord. The rainstorm outside seemed to pause for a moment, and the silence in the bar accentuated the sound of thunder booming at that particular, exact moment.
It was a sign.
The drinker consciously ignored the burp that appeared without any form of courtesy or warning next to her.
Indeed, it could be a sign and could be said it is from the Lord- or rather a higher being- as after all, she had that right, for she was…
"Hey, who is that?"
"Yo, what's happening now?"
"Oh, it's her."
"Who?"
"Don't worry, she's always like this, just watch-"
Ignoring the whispers behind her, the drinker stood as tall as possible. Her back seemed to be as tall as the tallest mountains, and as mighty as the heavens itself. Such greatness; such height; such holiness! It all existed, superimposed, and combined into someone who looked to be just around a short five feet.
The feeling inside her threatened to overcome her drunkenness, and she accepted it gladly. This shall be the fuel to light the dwindling cinder inside her to become a roaring blaze!
"Oh- 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘱- ignorant mortals who do not know what is to come, heed my words! Listen carefully, for I am a prophet who knows the approaching end! The approaching 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺!"
A wave of shock passed through all those who had heard her- or at least that's what she thought she saw. In their mortal eyes, something showed within them. Confusion? Amusement? Awe? More confusion and amusement? It filled her with a confidence that is as fragile and empty as the zero multiplied by infinity…which is still zero.
"There will be several disasters- ᵗʷᵉˡᵛᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ. Actually, it may even be ten! These disaste-"
"So what is it then?" someone yelled from the audience. "Twelve, fourteen, or ten?"
"Shaddap!" the drinker yelled right back. She then coughed in her hands and stood tall once more.
Ahem, like I was going to say, these disasters will bring onto you all a terrible future unto this somewhat ugly and beautiful world! Many will suffer, losing their loved ones. Many will become homeless, ignored by those decision-makers above! Some will be left to fend for themselves, for others too are suffering! Some will be…um…"
"Starving?" someone else asked further back in the audience. The drinker nodded quickly towards where the voice came from.
"Yes! Starving!" she said, waving her fists. "Many will also starve from hunger or being killed by the selfish! Anyways, the whole point is that there will be death and suffering in the foreseeable future! Blood will run like a river, and corpses will be stacked as tall as mountains!"
"Huh?! Gasp! No! That can't be! Bullshit! Interesting. I gotta go piss. Can I get another beer, waiter?"
Many of these have been said amidst the summarized muttering of the crowd. At least, that's what the drinker heard. The latter two maybe only once.
"But need not worry, oh ignorant humans, for each calamity is an opportunity for humanity to rise! Not only that, three have already passed!"
She then slightly looked up and spread her arms to the skies above- or rather the ceiling above, but she looked far beyond the physical, as though seeing something no one else but her can.
"If ye wish to be saved, then offer me something of worth! Something that is of utmost importance in this depraved, modern world! For if you do, you shall be granted…uh…hmm…"
"Immortality?" another asked somewhat hesitantly. The drinker rubbed her chin and pondered. Immortality…
"No, that's…hmm…well I guess it's possible," she bemused quietly. "Perhaps not in the way many imagine, but yes that is one such possibility even I can give."
After thinking for a few seconds, she simply shrugged.
"Whatever, I don't know what else to say. Anyways, moral of the story: don't just give me your money! Pay my tab too!"
If there were crickets here, then they would be chirping loud and clear. She quickly coughed into her fist.
"Ahem, I let out my intrusive thoughts, sorry. What I meant to say was…"
With great dexterity that comes with experience and practice, she quickly turned around, grabbed the fallen stool, and gently placed it on its legs. Next, with a silent and quick hop onto the stool, she turned around with no difficulty, and raised her fist to the skies above.
"ALL OF OUR TABS SHOULD BE ON THE HOUSE! 𝙒𝙃𝙊'𝙎 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙈𝙀𝙀𝙀𝙀𝙀?!!!!!"
"Hear hear!"
The audience and supporters whistled, roared, and stamped their support. The drinker only closed her eyes and spread her arms even wider, letting all the praise surge into her, and like water to figure, the feeling inside her was quelled, even if just for a moment. As she took in the moment, the bartender simply sighed.
"Miss, please do not start another barfight, or else I'll conveniently remember the previous… 'tab.'"
All became still, and the emerging scammer and almost cult leader that is the drinker stilled, frozen in abject terror. It was as though the worst situation imaginable had fallen before her, causing all thoughts in the mind to freeze, like a cog abruptly stuck in a machine.
The drinker slowly, and carefully, robotically climbed down from the stool with her arms and legs moving like a puppet. Then, she sat on it, scooted in once, then twice- no, three times, and returned to her previous position.
As if it was all just a dream, the whole bar returned to how it was, with the hustle and bustle, laughter, and soft voices talking and whispering in the background, all joining together into one chaotic choir unique to a place of relaxation and converse. Propping up her head, the drinker glanced at the red-haired woman.
"My students…" the drunk woman sighed drunkenly. Her head had long been resting on the surface of the cold, hard table, with her red hair somewhat draping over the table.
As the drinker stared blankly at her, she blinked and softly made an "o" sound.
Now she remembers. Otto wasn't even an actual couple with Kallen, so he doesn't count at all. Instead, Kallen…
'Heh,' she thought and made a lopsided smile. 'Now that's just funny.'