Jefferson lies curled on the cold concrete. He looks more comfortable there than I do in my bunk. A semi-circle of firefighters, cops, and medics stand over him.
“Jefferson, how much have you had to drink today?”
“Come on, Jeff, let’s get up on the stretcher.” We assist him up and into the ambulance.
“Jeff, how much have you had to drink today?”
“Ok Jefferson, how old are you?”
Ain’t talking to you. I drink the fifth.
Nuthin’ to say. I. drink. the. fifth. Mumble-mumble-mumble.