Meet Nicklas

 "I knew that I would eventually find you here." I looked up, slightly bleary eyed from the corner booth at the latest bar I had wandered into to see the source of the voice (slightly annoyed) looking down at me with a great deal of would might pass as concern, unless of course you knew the fellow the look was attached to. I did know him, had known him for years, and know him well enough to know the "concern" was just disdain trying to look clever.  He slid a glass over to me that contained some clear liquid, and said "drink that, and when you finish it, you're going to have another and another until I am satisfied." He didn't elaborate as to what he had to be satisfied about, and I wasn't particularly interested in his "satisfaction anyway. "Well at least you brought me a godsdamn drink to go along with whatever sermon you're about to deliver." I took the glass, swirled around it's contents and threw it back expecting some clear liquor, and damn near choked to death with I discovered it was water. Clear, clean (at least for this dump) tap water. I coughed about half of it back up and said "the fuck are you doing Nicklas? Trying to fucking poison me? This appears to be water. Do you know what fish do in this stuff? It will kill you quicker than our mutual pal Felix." He laughed and said "it is in point of fact water, and you're going to drink enough of it to float a fucking ocean liner if I think it is necessary to get you sober enough to get out of here in one piece." I glanced around a bit myopically, "what's wrong with this place? You've survived a few drunken nights here, and were no the worse for it." He shook his head "take a stronger look around you damn fool, where do you think you are? This is Sully's you idiot, I went there first looking for you, and Sully said he stopped giving you drinks two hours ago, and kicked you the fuck out." 

I did as instructed, and looked around with a little more sobriety, and realized he was right. I wasn't at the home away from home that was Sully's bar. I was at the Purga's Cove, a place of last resort. The kind of place your mother warned you about, and even your dear, old, drunken father would think twice about setting foot in, a dive and a dangerous one at that. I had few to no friends at Purga's Cove. "How the fuck did I get here?" He shrugged "as best as I can put it together you somehow managed to walk from Sully's place to here, and even looked sober enough for them to keep serving you. Although for this place that is a pretty low standard to clear." He signaled to the barkeep, and a whole fucking pitcher of that vile stuff known as water appeared. "Now drink up my lovely, you've got a lot of explaining to do to quite a number of people." Nicklas was always a bit of a smug bastard, which I guess is why we got along so well. Well, not the smugness that bit was annoying. It was more the bastard part that I found easier to get along with. 

"Why are you even out and about at this time of day/night Nicklas? Don't you have family obligations to keep you busy?" He scowled "I do but we decided that one of us needed to come and pry you out of the gutter you seem to have moved into on a permanent basis." I raised an eyebrow "and by "we" you mean? I don't understand you lot and your unattached pronouns, like I'm supposed to know who "they" are who "she" is, and so forth. I am not a mind reader, and am too drunk to get the allusion, so you're going to have to be a bit more forthcoming old chum."  He let out a long sigh "we" are the few people that still manage to give a fuck whether you live or die. Does that help with your clarity any?" It did, and he knew it would, did I mention he was a smug bastard. "Oh you mean those two?" He nodded "yes those two and me it seems. I'm the one tasked to come here and pour water down you because I picked the wrong card out of the deck that we used to decide who would get this fun little task. All things considered, you're lucky I drew the card and not one of them." I shuddered because the water was cold, but more because he was right. I'd take Nicklas' smugness over the other two options any day of the week.  Not that they didn't care or weren't lovely people, it was just their approach might have been a bit rougher than Nicklas'.

I choked down another glass of water, and Nicklas refilled my glass. He seemed to be enjoying the situation far more than was strictly necessary. "You seem to be enjoying this situation more than is strictly necessary Nicklas. Why is that exactly?" He laughed without mirth, and said "it has been years since I've been your 'running around' buddy, and I find that the experience is not one that I miss, plus I will feel a lot better than you when I wake up in the morning." I nodded "this is true, and I don't need reminding of it. Is there something in particular you lot want out of me, or is this just a warning that this is my 'last chance', because I've already heard that speech before. At least twice if memory serves." He tutted "three, but who is counting? You and your semi-charmed life are about to undergo some changes. Well, that is if you want to keep living in the manner in which you've grown accustomed." Here he waved a hand around, and said "though I am not sure that if you'd call this living in a manner in which anyone would want to grow accustomed. Why hasn't someone done you the mercy of putting a knife in your ribs. That way we could mourn the talent we lost rather than despair of the talent you're wasting by doing this." I arched an eyebrow "Nicklas! where did you pull that line from? Have you developed the soul of a poet all of a sudden?"  He chuckled "no dickhead I stole if from you, though I doubt you remember saying it. I just thought it true, sad but true and figured it would hit home. Apparently I was mistaken."

He pried himself up from his side of the booth and with a long sigh said "I don't think you want to get clean, and until you do this is pointless. The worry I have is, I am not sure that even if you wanted to get clean you could, and that is going to be a problem. But, like you are so fond of saying it will be and is a "you" problem, and you will have to be the one to fix it. If you choose to try, you know where "we" will be." He turned to walk away, but stopped after about two steps and came back to say "however, you might want to read this before you go back to ordering whatever piss that passes for beer in this shit hole." Here he handed me an envelope, turned on his heel, and walked out the door like he owned the place. Which is about the only way to avoid getting stabbed in Purga's Cove. I looked down at the letter he had dropped on the table, picked it up and inspected it. It wasn't anything special just a plain, white envelope with my actual name written on the front in a very familiar handwriting. This was not going to be pleasant, but for some reason I didn't order a beer, and merely refilled my glass with water before opening it and starting to read...