The Alcoholics Read Online Free PDF

have time to argue with you. I've got work to do, see? I've got to be thinking out something on this sick woman- -or is she just a degenerate? I've got all these alcoholics-
    Oh, sure, sure. And what the hell's all that going to get you?
    What'll it-who the hell said it would get me anything?
    Listen, you stupid jerk! Face the facts. Do you want to keep this place going or not? Damned if I know why you would, but do-
    You know the answer to that.
    Then there's just one thing for you to do. Start thinking about a nice round sum from the Van Twyne farm-
    You think I'd do that, just because the family's fed up-afraid to give him the thirty-seventy chance the operation entitles him to? You think I'd keep a man buried here alive, a hopeless imbecile, just because his family is willing to pay for it?
    I said I wasn't going to think about it, now, and by God I'm not!
    Doctor Murphy gave his image a stern conclusive nod. He turned toward the door. A young man stood there, leaning against the casing, grinning at him.
    "Sorry to walk in on you, Doc," he said. "Guess you didn't hear me knock."
    "I see," said Doctor Murphy. "And did it occur to you to wait until I did hear you?"
    He was, appearances to the contrary, something of a stickler for formality. He liked good manners; except when they were sodden, he usually found those good manners practiced by alcoholics. And this man was very far from sodden. It was unlikely that his system still retained any of the alcohol which had been in it upon his arrival the day before.
    The young man chuckled, brushing aside the rebuke. "You've got to fix me up, Doc. Boy, if I don't get a drink fast I'm going to fall apart."
    The doctor nodded slowly. He suddenly appeared to be charmed and intrigued by his visitor. "Had quite a bender, eh? Well, I guess when you advertising men hang one on, you really hang it on."
    The young man said they did. And how!
    "Don't have to worry about your job, eh? If they don't like it at that place, there's plenty of other places that will?"
    "Well, I don't want to brag, Doc, but I can tell you this. Drunk or sober, I can still do a hell of a lot better than…"
    He proceeded to brag, while the doctor casually pushed up the sleeve of his hospital bathrobe and took his pulse. He had no doubt that the young man's boasts were true, or almost true. Alcoholics had to be good. They lost time from their jobs. They were guilty of disgusting and atrocious acts. Thus, if they were to survive in their professions or jobs, to be tolerated by the world they so frequently outraged, they had to work and think harder than normal people.
    So this man probably was very good at his work now. He probably was very much in demand. Five or ten years from now… well, that would be another matter. A man's ability availed him nothing if he could not stop drinking long enough to use it. All his talents were worthless if people were afraid to hire him.
    "First trip to a sanitarium, Mr.-uh-Sloan?"
    "Make it Jeff, Doc… Yep, first trip. Usually, you know, I don't want any more after the second or third day. I'm not sick at my stomach exactly; just feel like I've had enough. But this time, I-"
    "Uh-huh. I think I understand, Jeff. So I'll tell you what you'll have to do. Get sobered up completely; rest for a couple days until your nerves are straightened out. Then get back to your job, and never take another drink as long as you live."
    Jeff Sloan laughed. "You're kidding, Doc. I can handle it. Didn't I tell you this was the first time I-"
    "You'll never be able to handle it again. And this won't be the last time."
    "But I've got to drink. It's part of my job. I have to meet a lot of people and-"
    Doc Murphy couldn't decide whether he was angry or sad. A little of both, he guessed. His nose wrinkled, sniffing the air suspiciously.
    "Well, I suppose if you must have a drink…"
    "A big one, Doc!"
    "I'll give you an ounce, now. If you want more later, you can have it."
    Followed by the young man, he