Who: Odin, Thor What: Are you my father? When: Sunday Where: Nondescript bar Warning: None?
Meeting on Monday.
And Tuesday.
And Wednesday.
Eric was less interested in investment portfolios and blue chips and more concerned with how fast he could get drunk and pass out in between scratchy motel sheets. Sleep had continued to elude him for the past three months (after that damn bird had attacked him) and physically it was starting to take its toll.
At first he had been irritated when his co-workers had asked if he was tired. Then they stopped and when Eric caught a passing glimpse of his reflection he knew why.
Which brought him here. Some shit hole bar that was open at 11 am on a Sunday. Where prescription drugs and a know-it-all with a fancy piece of paper on their wall had failed alcohol wouldn’t. He would drink until he couldn’t see straight, pickling his subconscious mind with cheap beer and whiskey shots. If he was lucky he’d be blitzed before 2 and back at the motel and asleep by 3.
It was an excellent plan. One that would see him refreshed for tomorrow's 10 am start.