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Nov. 7th, 2009 05:27 pmFound a probably-illicit Russian text file of Fredric Brown's Night of the Jabberwork; so I could read it without having to wait another year or so to find a physical copy. This being one of the writer's lighter outings, the narrator-protagonist is a more functional alcoholic than most Brown characters. By my count, 53-year-old, 140-pound newspaper editor Doc Stoeger manages to put away the following between 6:30 pm and half-past-noon the following day:
6:30 pm - midnight: 21 whiskeys
(Around midnight he realizes he hasn't eaten since a sandwich at lunch, and he and his guest raid the icebox and make themselves sandwiches:
"Between us we killed a pound of boiled ham, most of a
loaf of rye and a medium-sized jar of pickles."
12 more shots before 6 am (during this part of the story, he's been framed for murder and is dashing around dodging the local cops.)
1 (?) gin (He's at the villain's place and that's all he can find.)
2 jugs of black coffee (while he's typing up the story and setting the type.)
"I got to Smiley's at half past twelve with the first paper off the
press in my hands. Held carefully. I put it proudly on the bar. "Read," I told Smiley. "But first the
bottle and a glass. I'm half dead and I haven't had a drink for almost six
hours. I'm too keyed up to sleep. And I need three quick ones.""
Doc also manages to climb through two ground-floor windows and knock three people unconscious during the course of his adventures, before finally passing out in the last sentence - I hope Smiley the bartender was able to catch him in time. Evidently small-town editors were made of stern stuff in those days; or had the metabolisms of humming-birds.
6:30 pm - midnight: 21 whiskeys
(Around midnight he realizes he hasn't eaten since a sandwich at lunch, and he and his guest raid the icebox and make themselves sandwiches:
"Between us we killed a pound of boiled ham, most of a
loaf of rye and a medium-sized jar of pickles."
12 more shots before 6 am (during this part of the story, he's been framed for murder and is dashing around dodging the local cops.)
1 (?) gin (He's at the villain's place and that's all he can find.)
2 jugs of black coffee (while he's typing up the story and setting the type.)
"I got to Smiley's at half past twelve with the first paper off the
press in my hands. Held carefully. I put it proudly on the bar. "Read," I told Smiley. "But first the
bottle and a glass. I'm half dead and I haven't had a drink for almost six
hours. I'm too keyed up to sleep. And I need three quick ones.""
Doc also manages to climb through two ground-floor windows and knock three people unconscious during the course of his adventures, before finally passing out in the last sentence - I hope Smiley the bartender was able to catch him in time. Evidently small-town editors were made of stern stuff in those days; or had the metabolisms of humming-birds.
