If you quit drinking, watch out for the burning bush

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I’ve always been a drinker. I don’t apologize for that. It’s my life and I’ll live it the way I see fit.

However, many have accused me of being an alcoholic. They blame “alcoholism” for my misadventures and my far-from-normal exploits. How else could you explain my behavior? Maybe I’m just plain crazy.

I decided to get to the bottom of this mystery so I just quit, right then and there—cold turkey. I figured that a two-week hiatus would be sufficient enough to solve the riddle.

Would I be able to pull it off?

I wasn’t sure what the effects would be, physically. I’ve been partying like a rock star for around three years now. My body is used to its daily dose of the nectar of the gods.

What happened?

Not much, initially.

The second day, I got a headache that wouldn’t go away. I never get headaches.

The fourth night, something interesting did happen.

I was awakened and immediately sat up in my bed. I gasped for air.

In the corner of the darkened room was a slow-turning tornado of orange flames, from the floor to the ceiling, about five feet in diameter. I thought I was dreaming, until I said out loud:

“Damn, I’m not dreaming. That’s a f***ing burning bush. Holy shit, I’m hallucinating.”

It was so real that I just sat there and stared at it. It didn’t scare me, inspire me, or make me believe it was a message from Jesus. It was just a beautiful work of art in living color.

The damn thing wouldn’t go away. After about five minutes, I went to the bathroom, took a piss, and splashed some water on my face. When I got back, it was gone. I just laughed.

Was it a sign? Hell yeah, it was a sign. It was a sign that said I needed a rum and coke with a lime.

After about a week, the headaches went away. The second week was unremarkably boring. It seems that I’m nowhere near being an alcoholic.

The funny thing was that I didn’t crave alcohol like I was addicted to crack. I merely grabbed a Gatorade or some juice when I hit the convenience store and didn’t really pay attention to the beer shelves.

The conclusion? I like to drink but thankfully, it doesn’t rule me. I’m very much in control. I guess I’m just a bit crazy.

The burning bush? Pure, subliminal comedy, considering my stance on religion.

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