Don't Be a Sally

We drink. My cousin drinks the most. This is not a story for the faint of heart. This story is what I saw and what I lived while being with Adam. If you drink, take a shot, or have a beer when reading this. Go on the deck and rescue your wine from it's hiding spot. Cheers.

This short story is a glimpse into the everyday life of my cousin, Adam. We are close and I’m often worried for his health and well being due to his ability to drink massive amounts of alcohol on a daily basis; often times putting himself in horrid situations. Much of them he can’t remember the next day. Though his drinking is monumental, people love him. He is charming and has one of the most genuine laughs you will ever find. I am also highly interested in his vested ability to be happy during the worst of situations, making for a very colorful personality. His ups and downs are well known and when asking him if he minded me writing a short story, leaving nothing out, he said “Fuck it, Do it.” So, I wrote it like I saw it. This short story is not for the faint of heart. Possibly I’ll lengthen this at a later date.

Matthew Taggart was born in Western Massachusetts. In an open setting with farms dotting the country side. You could travel to New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts from the small town of Gill within minutes. This landscape molded him. Currently, Matt lives on the coast of Rhode Island and loves whisky, good beer, big waves, violent storms, and Hemmingway. He would say that he loves his girlfriend, but when he tries to say it out loud, he verbally trips. He has a battered past that he hopes to write about one day. And he says this to you, "When the next blizzard hits, don't sit on the couch. Go outside and play."