You Are Sober and In Control of This Situation

[Dip]

The man slapped thirty-two dollars and twenty-seven cents onto the counter, and looked at the bartender with the blue eyes of a Saint-- or atleast the blue eyes of a Saint who was about to get very, very drunk.

"Bartender," The man said to the bartender he was addressing. "I have thirty-somethin' dollars, and I want you to get me as drunk as possible." The man behind the desk looked at the wrinkled tender and took it from the man's grubby red hands, eyeing it and placing it flat onto the table. He ran a marker over it, and looked back at the man, absolutely denying that this man was anything Holy. Once the barman made sure that the bills were infact legal, he served the man and got him as he wished.

He didn't give him any sort of drink, sure, he just got him as drunk as possible. That didn't take long, seeing as the man really did get drunk as soon as he pressed his maw against any of the shot glasses. The bartender watched in amazement as he handled his liquor, aswell as his beer. And to the bartender's amazement, he wasn't even the least-bit sick!

The only thing that concerned the stranger was that it was only ten in the morning the day after New Years Eve. If anyone should be getting drunk, it should have been the night before! But here before him was the very man. The bartender stopped feeding the man's developing alcoholism when he reached seventeen dollars and sixty-two cents. He took that much out of the register, and handed it to the man who was now trying his damnedest to slide the shot across the table without it falling over.

"Sir," The stranger called to the drunkard. "I don't think you should be drinking this much. I'm no expert on, uh, addictions, but I am an expert at reading, and the clock does read ten o-clock in the morning. Don't you have... family to be with? It is the New Year."

The drunk man raised his pissed gaze off to the man who was providing his giggle-water. He pushed him head off of the table, and lifted his neck into the air. While this was an achievement for himself, he was still slouching like a child in a school chair. He lifted up one of his sleeves, and looked at the time on his wrist. It took him a while to get his eyes to focus on one arm on the clock, but when he did, he cracked a smile and looked to the stranger serving him.

"Issa... Issa issa ten!-Ooohh-Twelllve." The man burbled. "Annnaa' Iiiia wont' admit defeeeat to a... a... a a gloorified coffee machine!!!" And that was the truth. The glorified coffee machine rolled his eyes, and left his station to lead the poor drunk man outside. The bartender leaned in while he lifted him off of the chair, and pulled back. Good lord, he stank like beer up to high heaven.

"Sir-- hey, what's your name?" The barkeep asked.
"Isssa-isssa-isssa...." The stranger started, his knees wobbling as he was grabbed from the chair. "Joe....Oe...Yo."
"J-Joe? Joe what?" The man pushed the door open with his hip, and soon the man fell into the other's arms, and now the bartender was basically dragging him out by his arms.
Joe's legs dragged behind him as the nice young man pulled him out into the cold morning air. He didn't answer his question... Infact, he didn't remember what he did say to him.

He didn't remember what the nice man said to him in return. He didn't catch his name, or his number, or the name of the bar. He didn't remember when he put his seventeen dollars, and he didn't remember what he did spend it on, if he did spend it at all. He didn't remember if he slipped and fell on his ass as he crossed an ice-patch, or if he trudged in knee-high snow all morning. He just remembered that it was really hard to walk, and a nice lady in a clean coat showed him the way to the stairs.

Where did the stairs come from?

Joe didn't know what the stairs were leading to or who the name of the nice women was, or what building he was in, but he climbed those stairs for a while. He only stopped to keep himself from vomiting, and eventually stopped to vomit. He didn't know how many levels there were, but he did remember that there was something he was going to do once he got to the top of the building. Joe rubbed his eyes after throwing up a good portion of a Carl's Junior Thick Burger and all of the alcohol that had managed to get him drunk, and then some.

He faintly wondered how he got a Carl's Junior Thick Burger, but he wasn't even sure if it was anything like a Thick Burger anymore. He'd kill for one, though. As he thought, he managed to huck the rest of the chunks, wipe his mouth with the sleeves of his jacket, and stumble-fucked himself up the rest of the stairs.

The effort proved a challenge, only because there was one obstacle in his stairway to heaven: It was a construction zone. There was a bucket inbetween a door and it's frame, propping it open and leading into a construction field attached to the side of the building-- what building was this, again? The wind spat now into the building, and the air felt as it had before. Joe pushed the bucket out of the way, and walked into the catwalk that was the zone. He felt the breeze nearly freeze the tip of his nose off.

There was a sign that said 'OFF LIMITS', and Joe wasn't quite sure if they were talking about him specifically being off limits, or if something else wasn't limited, but he didn't mind it after a while. He only did mind it when he saw that it was attached to one of the Window-Washer Utility Carts. Joe meandered through the safari that was the construction zone, passing through working bodies that did smell vaguely of Rum. He slithered past the ice and slipped on a few patches, cold snow crunching under his feet. He pushed the sign out to the side with his foot, and watched it fall to the ground with a small crack.

Joe did the smartest thing he could have at that moment, and took a good look at the equipment covered in a thin layer of snow and ice. He atleast planted the cold helmet onto his drunken head, and wore loosely the yellow safety jacket. As he swayed in the Utility cart, he looked at a small panel of buttons and pressed a convenient one that had an arrow pointing upwards to the sky. He pressed that, and soon became one with the arrow.​

 

[Gossamer]

"Angeleko's Paper Company, this is Nohemi speaking," The girl said for what felt to be the thousandth time, as was customary for one who worked in customer service. Her eyes locked firmly on the computer screen before her which provided a variety of details for this particular customer in need of assistance.

The words were spoken quickly and in a uniform manner, along with an air of weariness she made sure not to make evident in her tone of voice. A headset wrapped comfortably around the girls head, its microphone dangling inches from a pair of lips that sported no cosmetic accessory.

Surrounding her were at least thirty other cubicles that vaguely resembled the one she sat within. Each cubicle contained an employee that went about the same process as her in relatively the same manner, unless they're lucky enough to receive a rather disgruntled and verbal customer, a burden they are all fated to experience several times throughout the week. Nohemi, however, had the luxury of the starting the day off with an assortment of calm, non-violent customers who's problems were uncomplicated and required no effort for the customer service rep to solve, as was expected of her, of course.

"If the problem persists, please don't hesitate to call back." She said in a tone that suggested she was quite happy to assist some fifty something year old business owner that couldn't navigate a website to save his already depleting life. In reality, it was not Nohemi that spoke on the phone. In the early hours of the morning, the girls personality vanished, altering into that of a robotic customer service rep, constantly repeating the words "Yes mam," and "No sir," along with "You are quite welcome," coupled with "It is my pleasure to assist you," And so on, so forth, until the evening arrived and she is granted the luxury of departing from this friendly persona and reverting to her true-self, an identity that really was no different from her professional identity in terms of mannerisms and friendliness.

However, this would not occur for quite some time. The clock had yet to evens strike twelve. A significant amount of time remained for the girl to act out her persona and assist the common folk of the small business world that gave the company she worked for both purpose and profit. However, at certain times throughout the work day, if she was lucky, there would be a brief period of time where her line would remain silent. These moments usually lasted no longer than seven minutes (she had been working long enough to keep track) but granted her the opportunity to spin her chair in the direction of the window and gaze blankly at the bustling city below.

It was a perk she was quite lucky to have, as a majority of the cubicles within each floor of the building were cramped in the middle of the room, and only granted its occupant a rather boring view of more cubicles. Nohemi, however, was fortunate enough to have the luxury of the blue sky awaiting her blank gaze when she could provide it. This was a minuscule perk, sure. But it was one she cherished throughout the tedious hours of the day.

Nohemi stared intently at the silent phone for about thirty seconds. Calls were often relentless and usually came one after the other, but when the phone grew silent, as hers was doing now, this was a sign of her most cherished luxury. Quickly she pushed her foot off one of the desks legs, using the momentum to twirl around in her chair and face the window as she had done so many times before. The girl crossed her legs and reached for a cup of coconut blended yogurt that had sat beside her keyboard for several hours waiting to be consumed. Gripping its lid with her nails, she peeled the cup open and began the process of delightful consumption whilst gazing out at the city she lived within.

Although her days were quite repetitive, there was some variety to be found during this particular week. Across the building she worked in was yet another however many stories tall behemoth of architecture in close proximity to her own. In said building was a plethora of construction equipment as well as employees who were qualified to handle it. For reasons unbeknownst to her, renovations she could never afford were being done. Where as her view usually consisted of cars the size of ants driving up and down the freeway, this construction site provided another outlet for her gaze.

She swirled a plastic spoon within the cup of yogurt before bringing said plastic carefully into her mouth, all the while staring blankly at the construction site beyond the window. In the distance, the girl could just make out two wires that hung parallel to eachother. She knew nothing of construction, but could only assume the wires were attached to the very same utility carts she had seen in movies and television, albeit with less excitement. Real life wasn't some action flick, and she certainly did not expect to see some fight scene happen before her as the cart sped downwards to the protagonists unexpected yet inevitably prevented doom.

Within moments her suspicion was fortunately confirmed before her, as the wires began to vibrate, and she could see a utility cart begin to move upward, inches from the building itself. Twirling the plastic spoon within the cup once more, she watched curiously as the cart ascended, and made sure to keep an eye out for anything else beyond the window that may catch her attention for the time being, before the phone rang once more, sucking her back into the tedious cycle she was more than accustomed to.​

 

[Dip]

As the winter winds battered against the man, he was thankful he had a helmet on with him. Not only was it cold, but he was also sure that it would protect his skull if the wire cables snapped.

He was no expert on those kind of things, but it looked like it might be ready to.

Joe was climbing the building at about six miles per hour, and boy was he slow at it. It would get stuck sometimes, and it would start shaking, but eventually it would work itself out. It was now stuck on a particularly high portion of the sky scraper, and it looked like it wasn't going to go without a fight. And because Joe was a lover, not a fighter, he wouldn't be fighting for a bit.

He kicked snow off of the side, and he stuck his cold hands into his pocket. He felt a few pill bottles in his jacket, and wondered if he had gloves. He also wondered if he could down a few of them with his numb fingers and frozen limbs. He pulled out two bottles, pulled two pills out from both of them, and downed them dry. As he tucked the bottles back away, he sweeped one final time around and found a pair of gloves. He grabbed them quickly, and pulled them on with the force of gravity longing for a celestial object.

Joe blew into his cold hands, but he soon heard something. It wasn't something that he would have gotten used too-- it wasn't the wind, or the grind of the gears of the cart, but it was something that sounded like... tapping. He looked around curiously, and soon looked at the building that he had been beside for the longest time. He squinted into it, and he saw... people. Specifically the person who was tapping. Well, even if he was drunk, he could expect that he'd see people. Joe saw plenty of people every day, but these people looked... well, better than he did.

Joe looked down at his ripped pants and he looked into the window again, to see the stranger tap tap tapping away at the window again, with an annoyed look on their face. He looked at the window, and saw that there was a blemish on the glass. He made a face, and he looked back at the stranger at the desk. He shrugged his shoulders, and swayed on his feet. The person in the building made an ugly gesture at him, and shook their head.

Inside the building, the same person went and typed angrily at their computer. "Fuckin' inebriate." They spoke, using one hand to bring a mug of coffee to their maw and another to type on the computer. They looked at the clock at the nearby desk, and sighed. It's been about forty minuets since they had done their job, so they decided to get back to work. They pressed the unmute button on their dock, and closed out of Solitaire. "Thank you for holding, but we're sorry. Your problem can't be resolved at this time, but please call our associate manager at 555-072-1001. Thank you for using Angeleko's Paper Company, and I hope you have a great day."

Joe looked at the window again, and looked over at a bucket with a squeegee. He wondered why the water wasn't frozen inside of it, but he wasn't one to go and drink a random bucket of water, now, was he? He wondered what it might do for him if he did, but it might not be desirable if he did try. He got on his knees and scooted over, pulling the bucket over and kneeling infront of the window.

The stranger inside the building looked over, and rolled their eyes at him. Joe dipped the squeegee into the bucket, and slowly wiped the window, feeling the effects of mixing the pills and liquor as he smelled the chemical fumes. He wiped at the window, and held his stomach for dear life. He wondered why he was going to go to such lengths to get to the top of the building.​