NOLAN
Elvis did like his liquor, but whenever you saw him chugging bottles of beer after beer, well, you would know he was deeply worried about something. And I was sure it was the same this time.
"I... I... I'm... I think I'm a little tipsy," he managed to get out, now sitting lazily in a plastic chair that I feared a leg would give in with how bizarre his movements were.
"Buddy, you crossed that line four bottles ago," trying to get as much of his attention as was possible, I added, "Look, I know something is up. So, how about you cut the bullshit and just say it as it is."
He didn't say anything at first. He tried to open the last filled bottle on the table, and I snatched off his grip, called the barman, and told him to drink it on our behalf.
