— Why is the rum gone?
— One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. Do you really think that there is even the slightest chance — that they won't see it?
— But why is the rum gone?
And that was without even a single drop of rum.
— Is this a dream?
— No.
— I thought not. If it were, there'd be rum.
Oh. When I've been drinking, sometimes I tend to get overly friendly.
You can sort your life out anytime; the pub closes in five hours.
Now I'd like... a nice double whisky with another double whisky as a chaser.
"What are you doing there?" the Little Prince said.
"I am drinking," replied the tippler, with a lugubrious air.
"Why are you drinking?" demanded the little prince.
"So that I may forget," replied the tippler.
"Forget what?" inquired the little prince, who already was sorry for him.
"Forget that I am ashamed," the tippler confessed, hanging his head.
"Ashamed of what?" insisted the little prince, who wanted to help him.
"Ashamed of drinking!"
The tippler brought his speech to an end, and shut himself up in an impregnable silence.
Did you notice how he always starts his stories with, um: "Okay, I was so wasted," or, "Oh, we were so bombed." Or, um, "So I wake up and I'm in this Dumpster in Connecticut."
— This must be the bite-the-dust section. Some kind of broom closet.
— Maybe we should have asked?
— Oh sure! "Nurse, we need salt and lemons, because we want to get drunk with Tequila!"
— Just a club soda, I'm driving.
— It's an open bar, cutie.
— Give me a bucket of Scotch.
Why is the rum always gone?
