After 13 years of intensive drinking I finally sobered up. Five years later I was at a friend’s place when some of her friends dropped by. They were close to wasted but not quite yet and of course the one that was the most drunk stumbled over to collapse next to me. He had close to no control over his body and spilt beer all around.
– Hi, I’m Hansch, he said and offered me his beer drenched hand.
– Yes, I know. We have met several times before, I answered.
– We have? he asked sincerely surprised.
– I have even been to your apartment.
– Do you want schome beer, he asked apologetically and spilt some beer on me.
– No thanks. I don’t drink.
– What? Don’t drink?
– Alcohol is a poison. I don’t want it in my life.
The rest of the people knew very well why I had quit and were quite amused at our conversation.
– Oh no, alcohol is good, Hans explained. You become fun and schoscial. You feel good when you drink. You schould try it schometime. You’d like it. Here, have schome of mine.
Generously he offered me his beer before not so graciously dropping it in my lap.
– Oh no, I’m schorry, he said as he fumbled for the can in my lap.
He got hold of the bottom of the can and managed to pour the rest of the beer all over my legs.
Even if I was irritated to be beer drenched I couldn’t really be angry because it was so obviously beer karma. I had been fumbly Hans so many times towards other people that I had it coming.by