My first Angel fic! This is just a short one shot that came to me one day in class. I have a nother one that comes after it unfinished. if you guys like this story then I'll be happy to finish the next one (winkwink)

Well anyways I hope you guys enjoy this. I enjoyed writing it.

1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, and 1 Beer

static-elf-of-insanity

Francis looked around at the musky bar he had just walked into. The Bar was called Taylors. It was place that was at least twelve years old and was owned by a sole bartender. Taylors didn't care where you came from or who you were, so long as you had the money to pay for your drink.

It was the perfect place for him tonight. He had his last twenty in his wallet and he intended on using it here.

Harry had always told him that drinking would do him no good, that it would lead him to trouble. Perhaps she was right. But, then again, where was she now? Not here. Probably off in Romania getting Dracula's autograph.

But definatly not here.

So with nothing holding him back he went up to the counter and sat on a barstool with a patch of ductape over the top.

The bartender turned and looked at him,"What'll it be tonight, Francis?"

"Bourban," He ordered as he took out his wallet. The bartender slid him his glass.

"So," The tender started as Francis flipped out his twenty and tossed it to him in faint detachment, "Usually when Francis comes in something bad's happened."

Francis looked up and downed half of his glass. He let the raw sensation fill his sences giving him the warmth he so desperetly needed tonight. But, like all good things, the feeling departed, leaving him colder than he ever was. After a moment despairing another of his losses, he said, "Lost meh job."

The Bartender gave him a sympathetic look. "It happens."

Francis shrugged it off and took another welcoming mouthfull, finishing off his drink. The cold feeling came back even worse this time around. He shivered slightly in his brown leather jacket.

The Barkeep looked him over. He was tracing the rim of his glass with his finger, slumped over in a way so pathetic that the bartender couldn't take it. He sighed and finished cleaning his last shot glass, put it neatly on the shelf and turned back to the sorrowing drinker at his counter.

"So, where was it you worked?" The Tender asked. Francis's occupation never came up before in conversation.

"The elementary school. The one on Fifth," He replied. The bartender looked him over.

"Custodian?" He asked.

Francis slowly shook his head 'no' and said, still looking at his glass, "Teacher."

Well, The bartender had never pictured Francis for an educator, but, to each their own, he supposed.

"I, I got angry with one o' them," He started, "It was a really bad day fer me. Hell, It was a really bad week, what wit' Harry and ever'thing." Francis ran his hand through his short dark hair. "To top it off, I had a hangover, A really, really bad hangover."

"Did you hit one of them? One of the kids?" The tender asked cautiously.

Francis looked up, apperantly appalled by the mere thought. "No! Of course I didn't hit one ah the wee ones, are ya mad, man?" Francis read the tenders face. By the looks of it HE was the one who looked mad.

He sighed. The bartender motioned for him to continue. Francis waved it off and ordered, "Scotch. I'm gonna need it fer this story."

The bartender nodded and fixed him a glass of scotch, subtracting it from the money left from the earlier bourbon.

Francis took a small sip this time, to save it for his tale. "I was drinking alot, the night b'fore, ya know? I bought meself a nice forty-two ounce malt liquer, and one o' them jim beams. I think I drank 'em both.

''When mornin came around my head felt like it was being stabbed over and over again with billion of tiny burnin white hot pokers."

The bartender cringed but nodded politely, making a nice little mental note to never drink that much in one sitting.

Ever.

"I took a long cold shower choked down a painkiller or two and I was on meway to work. Now that I really think about it, I probably should have called in," He said thoughtfully.

"Why didn't you?" The tender asked.

Francis shrugged, "Guess 'wasn't thinkin' to straight. Somethin' I guess I havn't been doin' a lot of lately."

"What happened when you got to work?"

Francis groaned. "Amazingly, I had made it the thirteen block drive. How, is one thing I'll never know. When I got there the school bell was ringing so now the agonizing hot pokers were back, stabbin' at me again with every in--"

"Francis, no more hot pokers, please?"

The Irishman stopped and muttered a "Sorry, man."

The bartender sighed, relieved and said, "Keep going."

"Thanks, anyways, I finally got to my classroom and was taking the role when one o' blasted assistant principals started to badger me about m'lesson plans, said I didn't turn 'em in. I know I turned 'em in.

' "Allen, they're not in your box or in the computer." She said, "And I highly doubt the front office lost them." '

Francis grumbled bitterly.

"Allen?" The bartender asked curiously.

Francis looked up from his muttering and nodded. "Allen is me first name. Francis is me middle."

"Oh. I just thought Francis was your first 'cause eh, Harry called you--"

"--called me Francis when she dragged me home last week?" Francis finished for him.

"Yeah."

"She was the only one who really called me Francis."

The barkeep senced the bitterness in his voice. "Eh sorry," He said.

Francis finished off his scotch. "Don't worry about it. The name means nothing now. Call me what you want."

The bartender nodded.

Francis continued, "I was starting to make a scene in the class. All the students just sat there quiet like while I shouted up a storm at her.

"It took a little while but I finally realized where I was at. I studdered for a moment trying to come up with why 'Mr. Allen' had just exploded on a principal.

' "Oooooooooooo! Mr. Allen's in trouble," Sang on of the kids. It wasn't long before the whole rest of the class room was joining in on the chorus of 'Oooooooo's.

"I couldn't bear the headache they were giving me.

' "HEY! QUIET DOWN ALREADY!" I just roared at them. There was an immediate silence. I quickly composed meself and tried again,"Me and Ms. Quinn have t'go sort out a mishap. Right Ms. Quinn?"

"The principal was stunned for a moment. I never EVER had yelled at m'class. I didn't like it either but at the moment I didn't much care. When she snapped out of it she wasted no time dragging me out of the room by my shirt collar.

' "What in the name of God is wrong with you Allen!"

"I was scared she was gonna go ahead and throttle me right there.

'' I told her that, "I've got a splittin' headache's what!" I was attempting to be polite, but by her menacing eyes it probably wasn't going to well. "Look, let's just go down to the front office and sort out this little matter, yeah?" I took off down the hall seething in such a terrifying manner it scared one of the T.A.s I passed.

"The assistant principal stayed her distance but followed me. Half way there she tried to question me, "Allen, what's going on?" She tried to ask. "I've never seen you like this."

"I didn't give her an answer. Instead I just walked into the office, went straight to the teacher boxes, and pulled out my lesson plans. I held it up to her. "See? In m'box, right where I left 'em."

"The principal took the lesson plan in her hand and replied, "That's not your box."

"I was confused. Not my box? Of course it was my box! It should'ave had my name on it."

"But it didn't?" The barkeep asked.

Francis was looking at the counter with his empty glass in hand. He shook his head. "No."

' "We changed the boxes order last week Allen, didn't you get the e-mail?" She told me after I had spent the past five minutes staring at the box that was no longer mine. "Why haven't you been checking your e-mail?"

"I couldn't believe what I was hearing! So I let it out. "Hell No! I didn't check me e-mail! I was too busy drownin' m'sorrows in a mass of alcohol!" I shouted at her. She stepped back but I kept going, determined for her to hear me out. "And do you want know why? Because HARRY FUCKIN' LEFT ME!"

"It was finally out. I had finally gotten out that horrible monster of sorrow out of me. It was the first time since she left that I had actually admitted to it!"

"And it felt good."

"The assistant principal--ugh, okay her name was Rachel--was speechless. She just sort of stood there.

"A few minutes later she answered, "Allen, I'm sorry I--"

' "--Didn't know, I know, no one knows, It's just so fuckin'--" I started, but Rachel stopped me.

' "The superintendent is here today. You have to keep it down." It was a good warning. A warning I should have damn well took but me and me shinin' happy attitude didn't.

' "Fuck the superintendent! I'm Fuckin' tired of the new crap she forcin' on us teachers anyway! Where does that bitch get off makin' all these new regulations? I mean if she's got a problem with the way we teach then she can damn well say it to me face!"

"At which, unbeknownst to me at the time, I had just done."

"She was right behind you, huh?" The bar tender asked.

Francis let out a hysteric drunken giggle. "Yeah, man. The WHOLE time." He looked down at his empty glass again. "Of course I didn't know it was her. She was the new one, elected from some other place than our school. I didn't have a clue of what she was supposed to look like.

"She let out this high pitched 'Ahem' to grab me attention. I whipped around so quick it made me head spin. I looked the lass down (That is, if you could call her that.) and demanded, annoyed out of my mind, "WHAT? Do you see me ranting here? If you want to talk to me, wait your fuckin' turn! Don't go around 'Ahem'ing people! It sounds like yea've got a cat lodged in ye'r throught!" Oh, It was the funnest rant I've ever had.

"The lady's featured twisted and warped into some form of monsterous rage! "Well, I never!" She shrieked at the top of her voice.

' "Well lady, now ya have!" I retorted. My balance left me for a moment. All of that yelling left me light headed. Luckily I caught m'self on the copy machine nearby.

"The superintendent's gaze went directly to Rachel. "IS THIS MAN DRUNK?" She screeched at her.

"Rachel didn't respond. She was probably to scared to. So I responded for her, "I'm not DRUNK!" I shouted at the crazed woman.

"At this my head was throbbin' so hard I thought it might explode at any moment. My next sentence came out like a slurr, "I'm Hungover! Hung...OVER!" '

Francis started cracking up inspite of himself. The barkeep let him. When he finished he took a deep breath and continued, "The superintedent without a doubt, was beyond furious. I tell ya, I swear I saw smoke coming from her ears. I stood up straight the best I could. looking as triumphant as a sodden hungover man could. Thinking, merely, I had only cussed out a parent.

"That was untill, of course...

' "Um, Allen?" Rachel whispered in my ear timidly, "That's Ms. Boulenger, the superintendent."

"The rest, my dear friend," He concluded, "Was history."

The bartender regarded him for a long moment, taking it all in. Then, he turned to one of the bar's coolers and pulled out a bottle of Bud. He set it in front of Francis next to his change from the earlier drinks. Francis looked at the bottle, then at the barkeep with a questioning look.

"I've got kids you know, in school. And I swear I hate the school board. I just wanna grind their faces in the concrete.

"But you, you actually cussed out the superintendent! Something I've been wanting to do since they elected her. The lady's not right in the head. I'll bet that merits you a free cold one on me." He explained.

A smile curved on Francis's face. He looked at the beer. "Thanks."

"No problem, really. Things'll get better for ya, I'm sure of it."

Francis nodded, "I've got a check comin in soon. A favor from a friend of a friend, ya know? So, yeah, things'll get better!" Francis stood up from the bar stool, taking his beer in hand. "Thanks for listening to me yak all night."

"Thanks for scoring one for the parents."

They both waved off as Francis stepped out of the bar. He looked down the street to the way of his house. He popped the top off his bottle and took a swig. Letting out a sigh, he stepped into the night.

Things could only get better.

The End