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The Last Drink
#WritcoStoryPrompt65
Max Whimz had an incredible life. An orphan, he escaped the foster care system leading to forced gang membership by getting an Uber ride before high school graduation to go to be a Woofer on an organic farm in South Florida where he earned money blogging about his experience and handling Fiverr Gigs. He finished his high school on-line. He studied German on Duolingo and then went to Germany to get an undergraduate degree, traveling back to the US to mingle with friends on holidays. He couldn't find work in the US with his German degree so he became an Uber Driver and studied at the University of the People which led him to a work program in an EOE environment. He started a business as an on-line German teacher and ran a tiny home village where he built them all himself and rented out half on Airbnb. Finally, he had enough money to go to medical school and became Dr. Max Whimz of Fine Lines where patients optimize well being and become fit and trim like him. All was well except for one big problem, alcoholism.
One night as fands cheered he danced and rapped on a bar table runway surrounded by incredibly beautiful cats from a pedigree contest that seemed so dreamy, could they possibly be something more than human. One persian he held dearingly in his arms. He bellowed out to his fands, "Thanks, let me have one last drink (berp) before I hit the road." He looked at his side view in a mirror and it looked like he could compete for a Santa Claus part, but he thought, no problem, I'll just schedule a month in Bali or two and I'll be back looking like Sexy Santa.
Then, he was off in his custom moto-car that was a Harley in the front and a wagon in the back with half a dozen of his favorite fands riding off with him to their quaint village, planning to take a midnight dip in the pool to cool off, but suddenly, Max guzzling a big mug of draft, fell unconscious, the moto-cart car swerved and started bumping into other vehicles. Then, a wheel popped by a semi-trailor and something made it spin out of control off a bridge. Lightning struck, thunder rumbled and a torrential rain started as everyone fell. The fands dropped into a lake and the motorcycle fell into a big sand dune on an island. The fands got their dip and swam to shore, frantically trying to see if their heroe of Fine Lines was okay. He seemed gone to the world. Someone called 911 and a helicopter rescue unit arrived. Max was unable to see a message from Bertha Lambly from the orphanage secret pal program, "Hey, buddy, you all right! I was reading things are getting pretty crazy on-line." The fands kept trying to get the paramedics attention, blurting out, things like "How's he going to get better?" One paramedic looked over with a face so sad everyone silenced and said, "There's no vital signs, the only thing that can save this man is prayer!"
Would you pray with me for Max Whimz before he's gone forever?
© Kaylene Peters
Max Whimz had an incredible life. An orphan, he escaped the foster care system leading to forced gang membership by getting an Uber ride before high school graduation to go to be a Woofer on an organic farm in South Florida where he earned money blogging about his experience and handling Fiverr Gigs. He finished his high school on-line. He studied German on Duolingo and then went to Germany to get an undergraduate degree, traveling back to the US to mingle with friends on holidays. He couldn't find work in the US with his German degree so he became an Uber Driver and studied at the University of the People which led him to a work program in an EOE environment. He started a business as an on-line German teacher and ran a tiny home village where he built them all himself and rented out half on Airbnb. Finally, he had enough money to go to medical school and became Dr. Max Whimz of Fine Lines where patients optimize well being and become fit and trim like him. All was well except for one big problem, alcoholism.
One night as fands cheered he danced and rapped on a bar table runway surrounded by incredibly beautiful cats from a pedigree contest that seemed so dreamy, could they possibly be something more than human. One persian he held dearingly in his arms. He bellowed out to his fands, "Thanks, let me have one last drink (berp) before I hit the road." He looked at his side view in a mirror and it looked like he could compete for a Santa Claus part, but he thought, no problem, I'll just schedule a month in Bali or two and I'll be back looking like Sexy Santa.
Then, he was off in his custom moto-car that was a Harley in the front and a wagon in the back with half a dozen of his favorite fands riding off with him to their quaint village, planning to take a midnight dip in the pool to cool off, but suddenly, Max guzzling a big mug of draft, fell unconscious, the moto-cart car swerved and started bumping into other vehicles. Then, a wheel popped by a semi-trailor and something made it spin out of control off a bridge. Lightning struck, thunder rumbled and a torrential rain started as everyone fell. The fands dropped into a lake and the motorcycle fell into a big sand dune on an island. The fands got their dip and swam to shore, frantically trying to see if their heroe of Fine Lines was okay. He seemed gone to the world. Someone called 911 and a helicopter rescue unit arrived. Max was unable to see a message from Bertha Lambly from the orphanage secret pal program, "Hey, buddy, you all right! I was reading things are getting pretty crazy on-line." The fands kept trying to get the paramedics attention, blurting out, things like "How's he going to get better?" One paramedic looked over with a face so sad everyone silenced and said, "There's no vital signs, the only thing that can save this man is prayer!"
Would you pray with me for Max Whimz before he's gone forever?
© Kaylene Peters
