Intoxifresh

By Zayne Brogan

After almost three decades in his job, George Thornley, a senior manager at Merrick and Smyth Pharmaceuticals, had spent 18 months perfecting an anti-hangover pill.
To prove the effectiveness of his invention to the board members he decides to get extremely drunk before his presentation. From this point on, his day does not go as planned...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zayne Brogan
• Release date: Sep 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311456038

Zayne Brogan

I was lucky enough to be a columnist for a major music magazine for nearly four years. I've self published two music educational books, and continue to write novels and short stories.

Book preview

Chapter One

Twickenham

London

During his mile long walk to work that morning, an unusually tetchy and nervous George knew he hadn’t studied anywhere near as hard as he should have for his hour-long presentation to the board. Something was desperately wrong with him; something just didn’t sit right in his mind. Deep down, he knew that middle age was looming, waiting for him around a not too distant corner. He pondered for a while as he strolled through Marble Hill Park; the same route he had taken to work since moving to Richmond.

In an effort to improve his mood, George thought about what he had achieved in his forty-four years. He loved his job as a senior manager at the firm of Merrick and Smyth. Money was never a problem for him as he always saved a healthy amount each month by not owning a car, and he had recently paid the final mortgage payment on the four bedroom detached house he shared with his wife, Catherine, with whom he was still very much in love. With all this in mind, he looked up at the sky with a smile. He felt its heat as the sun shone morning beams of bright warm colours, filling him with positive energy. ‘I can do this,’ he said to himself. He often had little conversations with himself on his way to work. ‘I know everything there is to know about this stuff. I’ll convince them, I’ll persuade them; they’ll be putty in my hands.’

He soon arrived at work, relaxed in the knowledge that he just needed to prove to Greg Smyth, Marvin Merrick, and the rest of the board what he already knew – that it worked. The new medicine he’d been working on day and night was one of special power: a small orange oval shaped pill.

This hangover cure would be a favourite around the world, and the fortune his bosses would make, just from licensing alone, could be worth hundreds of millions, if not more! The tests had been extremely rigorous, and after a few tweaks here and there George had finally got the perfect pill.

The human body would still suffer the usual damage from alcohol consumption, but once the pill had been broken up, absorbed into the bloodstream and pumped towards the brain, any feeling of dizziness, nausea, headache symptoms or other associated after effects of alcohol consumption would simply drift away, leaving a feeling of complete and utter sobriety. The pill could also be taken by drinkers to instantly sober them up; workers could get pissed at lunchtime and be perfectly productive in the afternoon with no feelings of lethargy or drowsiness. People could drive home safely after an evening at the pub.

Looking out of one of the many large windows situated around his main workplace at the headquarters of the company, George was going over the words in his head, silently mouthing them. Not being a great public speaker he was thankful that these presentations were rare, but was worrying about the possibility of getting his words completely mixed up when he felt a sudden sharp tap on his shoulder. ‘Yo! G-man, who you talkin’ to, dude?’

Startled, he quickly looked up from his seat at the postman doing his rounds. ‘Oh, hello Karim,’ he said to the Jamaican guy while wiping the perspiration from his forehead. ‘Do you have some mail for me?’

Karim gave him an innocent laugh. ‘Haha no man, not today, you just looked like you was goin’ mad there for a second or two, that’s all.’ As the postman went on his way, George gazed out of the window once more and noticed the sun fading slightly as small clouds began to build. He had to get to the conference centre by noon, but as it was only a ten-minute walk he’d have plenty of time to regain his composure. George breathed deeply and told himself that everything would go perfectly, as planned.

Feeling more confident he took a peek at his digital watch which showed the face of a green dragon, appropriately a present from his mother-in-law two birthdays ago; the time was 10:44 am. He looked around the room and his colleagues seemed fairly busy doing their own research, so with nothing more to do before his presentation he decided to prepare himself in the best way possible. He was going to get drunk!

Walking along the dark and miserable looking hallway laden on both walls with pictures of men and women wearing shiny white jackets and holding trophies of various sizes and colours, he turned to Sandra on reception. ‘Hi… you ok?’ he asked, trying to smile but still feeling slightly nervous. She was typing away, swaying her head from side to side as she listened to music, pausing the player every time a call came in. ‘Great, well I’ll be away for two or three hours. If you could just take any messages, that’d be cool.’ Sandra simply looked up as though she hadn’t seen him standing there and gave him a quick smile before getting back to her typing. George headed towards the main doors; they squeaked a little as he pushed them open.

The sky sprinkled light rain, more of a sparse haze than rain but still enough to slowly dampen anyone below. After walking for a couple of minutes towards the conference centre, the temperature had dropped and cold wind was gusting from all directions; George shuddered as he felt a chill run through him. Looking up, he saw the Red Lion public house that seemed to have a magnetic force intent on dragging him in. He decided to go inside, hoping that a few drinks would help to calm his nerves, as well as serve its purpose. This was the same boozer where he’d been drinking while experimenting on the pill’s ability to respond in a positive way. He knew the Red Lion attracted the ever-growing amount of London drunks, spending their ill-gotten gains to feed their own habits.

George entered the thick wooden-lined building and was instantly hit with a putrid stale smell of warm beer. Chairs were still stacked on top of one another on tables making the only seating available at the bar. He stood there for the duration of his stay with the building’s resident Alsatian sleeping under a nearby table.

After fumbling around to see what coinage he had in his pocket, he looked at the loose change in his hand and realised he only had enough, well nearly enough, for one drink, but he needed several for the experiment to work properly. ‘Bollocks,’ he angrily whispered to himself as the nearly-pretty barmaid made her way over.

‘Morning, sexy,’ she said, chewing gum and flicking at one of her overly large earrings. ‘The usual today is it?’

He didn’t want to appear to be on the same level as her main clientele. ‘You know what?’ he said, letting out a light-hearted chuckle, ‘I foolishly only came out with change this morning. I honestly have only £2.13 on me, I’m so sorry.’ He felt even worse after that little speech, but the drug of alcohol was something he’d been accustomed to for the past few months while his experiments continued. She poured his usual double whisky. ‘No coke in it today, thanks.’ She smiled as he waited patiently. He was worried that the taste for alcohol was becoming rather addictive lately.

George wanted to drink neat alcohol, to make sure his amazing display would work and be a huge success - perhaps he’d even see a promotion?

Linda walked back towards him with the whiskey and he noticed her large blue eyes surrounded by layers of makeup in several colours as she handed him his drink. ‘George, it’s ok… I know you well enough to know you’re good for it.’ She gave him a saucy smile and handed him the generously filled glass. He tried to pay what he had but she refused. ‘Listen Mr T, I’ll just make a note of what you order and you can come back to settle your bill when you have time.’ Linda was a nice looking girl, in a way, but ruined it herself by wearing too much makeup, and her sense of fashion was awful.

His thirst for the beverage was apparent and he reached out for the glass. ‘Thanks Linda, I’ll settle up with you soon,’ he blurted out quicker than usual, eager for the taste he craved. He knew all along that it was wrong, that it was slowly destroying him along with the rest of the clientele who frequented the ancient building, but it was a temporary measure. He looked around the bar at the other drinkers who all seemed far more carefree than he was. ‘Lazy bastards,’ he bitterly whispered under his breath as he took another gulp of whiskey. Why was it that he had so much to do? So much to worry about and yet, these people… these strangers, could relax and sit there all day long if they pleased, so long as their benefit money stretched far enough to keep them in drinks each and every day of their lives. He knew they were doomed, and that they were too far gone to make any kind of change. ‘Another whisky please Linda,’ he demanded with a weak smile in her direction. He felt slightly more relaxed but still anxious about the imminent speech he’d have to give in front of the old cronies on the board.

After several drinks of neat whisky he held a nearly-empty glass in his hand. As the last few drops of the liquid swam down George’s throat he, very out of character, slammed the thick patterned circular glass on the solid oak bar with a loud knock. ‘Linda… Linda come on, another drink?’ Lifting up his wrist, he looked at the green dragon and was hit by the realisation that it wasn’t his mother-in-law staring back at him after all. He shook his head to try and force some kind of reality back into his vision, but it didn’t make any difference, and the sudden shock of the current time being a little past twelve o’clock made him turn around to leave before giving Linda a quick glance. ‘I’ll be in later to…’ Floorboards suddenly came into view as he tried to refocus, but he managed to look up and finish his sentence, ‘I’ll drop the… later on, the money in later on.’ She hurriedly dusted the bar as his glazed eyes left hers.

A whole new set of feelings were instantly thrown at him when he opened the double doors. Swirling gusts of drizzle welcomed him and the wind kicked up green and yellow leaves that seemed to attach themselves like little post-it notes to his clothing as he headed towards the conference centre. George’s rate of blinking had increased and he had to continually remind himself of where he was and what he was doing. He still held onto his expensive briefcase as tightly as he could, aware that what was inside would prove his work over the past year and a half had been worth the effort. All the testing, all the changes, all the drunkenness and the quick zap back to reality as the sobriety sensation took place time and time again.

The fresh clean air outside had helped him a little, and part of him wanted to take an orange pill right there and then, but he knew he needed to be in a drunken state in front of the ageing board members to prove the amazing effects of his invention.

Stumbling along and squinting at signs to focus, George eventually found the steps of the conference centre. Hugging his briefcase to his chest while re-working out, like a child, how to walk up the concrete shapes, he soon found the handle and forcefully swung the doors open. He’d been to the building a few times before, mainly for lectures, and knew where to go, but first he’d have to sign in.

Precariously arriving at the main desk he saw three members of staff eyeing his every move. ‘Are you ok, sir?’ one of the middle-aged ladies asked.

He noticed her quick sympathetic look towards one of her colleagues. ‘I’m here… I’m George Thorn…’ he said, managing to hold on to the far edge of the desk to keep standing.

One of the ladies had a look of complete disappointment as she shook her head. ‘He’s obviously a drunk. We really need to escort him from the building.’ They all agreed, and two of them started to walk around from behind the desk.

George slammed his fist with a loud hard thump on its shiny surface. ‘I’m here to see them… the board members. I have to give a speech about my …’

After checking the day’s schedule, a shocked woman looked up. ‘Are you George Thornley?’ He managed to nod his confirmation. ‘I think we’d better get you some water, and quickly. You’re late.’ George was speedily shown to a seat and handed a pint of water.

‘I could fix… fix this myself if I wanted to,’ he said between large gulps of the water. He was made to wait a few minutes while one of the front desk staff signed him in and called to let the waiting board members know of their main attraction’s slight delay. George finished the entire pint of water and nodded off for a few seconds before he was woken and handed another pint of water.

‘I don’t know if you should see them in this state,’ the lady said, seeming very concerned for him. ‘Greg and Marvin, and the others, have a very professional reputation, George. You don’t want to go in there and mess everything up now do you?’

George took a sip of his second pint of water. ‘This is huge. I need to be drunk to… to prove that it works.’ He smiled, ‘I’m not usually like this of course.’ Glancing down at his green mother-in-law he saw that it was 12:26. ‘I have to get in there right now, they’re waiting for me.’

Chapter Two

Merrick & Smyth Pharmaceuticals

Conference Centre

With his briefcase in one hand and his water in the other, George was helped by two of the receptionists towards the most important presentation of his life. They stopped outside the door and held it open for him. He thanked them and smiled to himself as he heard one of them wish him luck as they left, but he knew that luck wasn’t needed, that everything was set in stone, and all the high profile board members were going to be seriously impressed beyond anything they’d ever witnessed before.

The atmosphere flowing around the boardroom was one of trepidation, and as George eyed each of the old men anxiously waiting, he noticed a few had their eyebrows raised in apparent despair at his late arrival. He walked around them, their eyes following his staggered movements, his glass of water swaying slightly in his hand as he neared the only empty seat. George could sense the increasing anticipation from them as he began to sit down, but he knew that what he was about to show them would remove all concern, and that any doubt would soon turn into amazement after his revelation.

A few drops of water splashed onto the large oval-shaped table as he misjudged the angle at which the glass of water should have been placed down on its surface. With briefcase still in hand he looked up with glazed eyes and was about to get the ball rolling when Mr Merrick, the senior partner of the firm, stood up from his seat and leaned across, both fists angrily clenched and supporting his weight. ‘You’re drunk!’ George looked around at the other seven or eight old men. He wasn’t in a great position to count with much accuracy, but they were all mumbling and grunting and were shaking their heads. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ He thumped the table with one of his aged and veiny hands. ‘You turn up late and you sit there drunk out of your God damn mind…Well?’ George could see the anger growing as redness rose in the old mans features.

He took another sip of his water. ‘Yes, I’m drunk. I’m drunk out of my mind, but…’ Mr Merrick thumped the table again as a few of the other old men began to stand up, disappointed and angry that they had wasted their time attending; the mumbling and grunting continued.

George stood up and laid his briefcase on the table, almost knocking it into his glass of water. "Don’t go! Please, I know how this looks…’ After a few seconds they patiently waited to hear what he had to say. ‘I know this must look bad… I know, but I had to go and get drunk to prove to you that my new invention works.’ Surprised that he was able to finish the sentence without slurring his words too much, he looked up from the old and wrinkled hand in front of him. ‘Please sit down, Marvin; I’ll be completely sober in just a couple of minutes.’ Mr Merrick contemplated for a few seconds, angry at being addressed by his first name, and then sat back down in his luxury leather seat.

The only one standing now was George, who took a few more gulps of his water and proceeded with the presentation. ‘I apologise for being late, but it was necessary for me to consume a large amount of alcohol to show you the new orange, instant sobering pill I’ve perfected. I lost track of time, I’m so sorry.’ Greg and Marvin gave each other a look, and as the room fell silent they gestured for George to continue. ‘I had planned to explain everything about the new orange pill before ingesting one to prove its effectiveness, but I… I think I’d explain everything much better if I took one right now.’

He took another gulp of water and placed his hands at either side of the leather briefcase ready to click the locks open. George knew that this was his moment, his time to shine. He had done a hell of a lot of hard work to get this far, and deep down he couldn’t wait to see the reaction to his new creation. ‘Gentlemen, I give you… IntoxiFresh.’

George looked around the table and all eyes were poised as they awaited the revelation of the wonder drug. The sounds of the two locks clicking open were highly audible as his hands hesitated to lift the lid of the briefcase; he wanted to add a little suspense. Everyone’s eyes were wide open as he fully opened the case and pushed his hand inside to grab the bag of small orange pills.

There were gasps from all around as his hand hit the lining. He looked down in immediate shock and saw an empty briefcase. Mr Merrick stamped his old fist again. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ George was instantly filled with panic. He had no idea what had gone wrong, but he knew all too well that he’d blown it.

He felt sick and frantically searched around inside the case again. ‘They should be in here.’ He knew they were in his briefcase back at work because he had placed them in there himself, right before making his usual mid-morning cup of tea. Mr Merrick stood up and began to put on his long dark trench coat before he faced George again. With the sound of pouring rain repetitively attacking the windowpane, George realised he desperately needed the toilet.

The old man pointed his finger in George’s direction. ‘You mean to tell us that you’ve kept everybody waiting here for half an hour, you arrived in a drunken state… god damn drunk to your own presentation, and all you came prepared with is an empty briefcase?’ Nerves got the better of George, and he didn’t want to look, but he could feel what he was doing. ‘And now you’re pissing yourself too, in front of all these board members.’ All George wanted to do was to close his eyes and wake up from the horrible nightmare he was having. He gave it a try, but when he opened his eyes he was still in the same boardroom. All the mumbling came back and everyone got up to leave.

He knew it was all over. ‘That’s it, go back home, back to the old people’s home,’ he said sarcastically. Mr Merrick gave George a look of absolute disgust before asking Mr Smyth to deal with the situation. With nothing other than despair in his eyes, a confused George plonked himself down in his seat stinking of alcohol and urine, feeling terrible as he realised he was sitting in a small pool of his own waste.

Greg Smyth was sat opposite and looked very displeased. ‘So tell me, was there ever any orange pill? Or are you going through some kind of a mid life crisis?’

George suddenly started to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Yes, of course the pills are real. I put two dozen of them in my briefcase at work this morning, in preparation for this,’ he said, trying to act as sober as he could. ‘I can get some more and do the presentation again if…’

His sentence was cut short as his immediate boss began to stand up. ‘I’m sorry George, I really am, but you’ve made a fool of yourself today.’ George tried in earnest to defend his actions, but didn’t succeed. ‘You’ve upset the majority shareholders, and also Mr Merrick himself with your frightful display. I’m afraid you no longer work for us. We have to be able to rely on our staff to do the job to the best of their abilities, and you came here drunk and put on a show like that? I’ll send something more formal in writing, but I think you should go home now; go home and sleep it off.’ The old man pushed down on his walking stick to heave himself up from his chair, and continually shook his head as he walked out of the room.

George was left feeling troubled, his trousers soaked and a hoard of questions running through his mind. He’d worked so hard for this, so why did it go so terribly wrong? Why was his briefcase empty? Why did someone steal the orange pills? And more importantly, who? He went back down to the reception area and scribbled some kind of small pattern in the sign out box, refusing to even look at any of the three receptionists sat at the front desk.

As he pushed open the doors to the outside world, the bursts of wind knocked him back to reality. He had no idea what to do with himself now as his life, as he knew it, had hit a massive brick wall. Sat down on the concrete steps of the Conference Centre he noticed a charity shop not far away. The smell of urine was still apparent with every intake of breath, he needed some clean trousers.

Still feeling very drunk, he opened the door to the charity shop and walked around until he found the clothing section. Without caring to see who else was in the shop, he stripped off his own stained trousers and tried on another pair that had a £2 price tag attached; they were a perfect fit. He knew the right thing to do was to dispose of his own trousers himself, so he held on to them as he went to the cashier. ‘Just the trousers please,’ he said while playfully displaying what he was currently wearing.

The old lady behind the counter simply gave him a blank stare. ‘That’ll be two pounds please.’

He reached into the pocket of the trousers he was holding and threw the change on the counter. ‘You can have the extra 13p for the ever so polite customer service.’ He didn’t intend to be so sarcastic, he was just extremely angry at so many things at that