If my life weren’t so fucked up at this current stage, I’d daresay I’m something of a genius.

                Hell, on the iota-sized chance I get out of this reality with at least one limb still intact, I may have to take up a job as an interrogator, because I’m almost certain I’d clean up there.

                The Absolut bottle, looking like a glass radio tower, rests precariously on the carpet a few paces from where Julia now sits cross-legged with me on the floor.

                Only two thirds of its gloriously incriminating liquid remains glistening in the bottle.  A few drops worth sit idly in my throat.

                The rest, miraculously, is in Julia.

                As soon as I made my casual remark about alcohol, I knew my murderous girlfriend couldn’t resist the urge to prove to me that she is, in fact, an adult capable of doing adult things, rather than a power-drunk juvenile on a subconscious quest to become empress of the known universe. 

                Carefully slipping me into her pocket and dressing herself back up sufficiently to pass for decent should she run into the maid, Julia made her way daintily down the massive main staircase of the mansion.  It seemed our previous escapades had wiped her out physically, and now all that was needed was a little extra push to put her over the edge.

                She drew me back from her pocket and clutched me in her palm once she had arrived in the sanctity of her parents’ liquor closet in the basement. 

                The place is absurd in its mass, and I would hazard a guess that Julia’s father funnels sizeable change into stockpiling the place with aged drinks, mostly wines.  Although they’re in the house so infrequently during the day to the point that I’ve never seen them, I know that they must put away a serious amount of the stuff at the lavish dinner parties they apparently hold from time to time, if the pounding noise I occasionally used to hear through the walls of the dollhouse and closet was any indication.

                Picking one of the more comparably inexpensive wines from a lower rack, Julia grinned earnestly at me, obviously hoping to see me impressed.  It was almost sort of funny to see her gripping the neck of the bottle in the hand that wasn’t holding me, her eyes bright with excitement at the very idea of engaging in such mature affairs with someone she loved so dearly.  I could feel her skin quivering beneath my back.

                Fully confident in my stunt at this point, and knowing there was no going back, I quickly shunned the option with as much subtlety as I could manage.  I shrugged and crossed my arms like some kind of seventeen-year-old liquor connoisseur and admitted that I wasn’t easily affected by wine because of the tolerance I had.

                Either I’m a better actor than I thought or Julia was far too entranced with the notion of coloring me impressed, because she didn’t even seem to dwindle on the reality that a couple thimbles full of wine would, at this size, put me squarely on my back with possible alcohol poisoning.

                Obviously, the amount wasn’t important to her, and it suddenly became clear that Julia just wanted to show me how much she could play with the ironically big boys club, because she immediately jumped to a slightly stale but nonetheless still potent bottle of unopened Absolut her father kept in a lower cabinet of the closet.

                I had to marvel at her brashness, if only for a second.  It seems likely that her father would eventually discover the missing liquid and have no choice but to pin it directly on Julia, saving the possibility of the maid being an uncontrollable alcoholic. 

                And clearly, this future threat didn’t faze my gigantic suitor in the slightest, because before I knew it I was being dunked back in her pocket for a brief stint before finding myself on the carpet of her locked bedroom.

                “So…” she cooed, slicing away the plastic wrap around the cap with a pair of scissors and twisting it open with a satisfying squeak.  “How much can you handle?”

                “Oh, nothing crazy.  I could put away a lot of it when I was… you know, bigger.”

                “Right,” Julia nodded.

                “Maybe a few droplets of it of the lid would be a good place to start.”

                “Yeah… maybe,” Julia declared hesitantly, obviously with different ideas.  Dipping her finger into the bottle neck and drawing it out, she sucked the tip of her digit to taste the powerful liquid.  Instantly, her face scrunched into repulsion, and I had to stop myself from smiling.  “You just… drink this stuff… right out of here?”

                Being so sheltered, Julia obviously didn’t know anything about chasers.  I shook my head.  “Yep.  I know it doesn’t taste great, but trust me, once you get going, it’s better.  Like coffee.”

                “If you say so,” Julia shrugged and, her eyes focused squarely on me to witness my reaction, tipped the bottle back and took a hard swig from the neck.  I was taken slightly aback, and figured I might as well show it to let her know she had succeeded in impressing me.

                “Great,” she grimaced, smiling as best she could despite obvious disgust.  “Now you.”  Her finger descended back into the bottle as she tipped it slightly, wetting it again.  This time, she drew her hand close to me, drawing her pointer finger toward my face gently as a few droplets of vodka dribbled off.  “Drink up, baby.”

                Knowing there were probably far worse ways she could’ve made me do this, I quickly wrapped my arms up around the massive pointer finger and began slurping the droplets of vodka off the sides as they clung to her skin.  I didn’t get much this way, but that was good. I need to keep a clear head.

                I nodded with gratitude, grinning and wiping my mouth off with a flourish before giving Julia a big thumbs up.  She beamed and instantly took the bottle back to her mouth, taking a smaller sip this time.

                Before I knew it, an hour and a half was gone, and now here I am, watching Julia’s inhibitions float away with every sip she takes.

                Her jaw hangs a little slack and her eyelids are droopy as she leans more like a ragdoll against the bed behind her.  I wondered for a while if she was going to be sick given the pace she’s keeping up, but for now she seems to just be awkwardly riding the wave.

                And now, finally, my throat incredibly dry from anxiety, I begin to make my move.

                “So, Julia,” I begin slowly, lying on my back casually.  I’m careful to slur my words ever so slightly so she feels just as secure in my fictional heavy buzz as in her own.

                It takes her a moment to become aware of my speech as she tilts her head down to face me and grins toothily, resting her chin on a hand.  “Yes, my little drinking honey?”

                “I’ve told you about me.  Now c’mon, fair’s fair.  Tell me about you.”