When Madness Meets Alcohol |
Published in Albania 
- Social interactions and entertainment - 0 - 05 Dec 25 00:01
If Pristell was a problem, then Komita was the escalation.
They met behind a closed bar at the edge of town—Pristell staring at the locked door, Komita arguing with a trash bin because it “owed him money.” That was the moment their partnership began. No handshake. No agreement. Just mutual disappointment in humanity.
Komita was a full-time alcoholic and part-time disaster. He smelled like stale beer, regret, and wet concrete. His hands always shook, not from fear—never from fear—but from the desperate need for another drink. He claimed he used to be “someone important.” No one believed that for a second.
Where Pristell was disturbing and calculated in his nonsense, Komita was loud, reckless, and aggressively pointless.
Together, they were unbearable.
Komita drank openly in the street, yelled at street signs, and blamed traffic lights for his life choices. He followed Pristell not out of loyalty, but because Pristell once showed him a vending machine that gave out free drinks due to a broken sensor. That single act earned blind devotion.
Komita lied constantly.
About his past.
About his future.
About why he was banned from seven bars in one night.
He stole beer and called it survival.
He insulted strangers and called it honesty.
He fell in the gutter weekly and called it strategy.
Pristell never stopped him. He merely observed, as if Komita were a failed experiment he felt obligated to document.
The police arrested Komita twice.
He forgot both times.
Once, during interrogation, Komita drank the disinfectant from the table and proudly declared it “industrial strength vodka.” He was released three hours later—not because he was innocent, but because nobody wanted to deal with him anymore.
People soon learned the difference:
If you saw dots, something strange was about to happen.
If you smelled alcohol, something broken was already happening.
And when both appeared at once—
stores closed early,
children were pulled inside,
and even Pristell’s shadow seemed uncomfortable.
Together, Pristell and Komita didn’t feel like villains.
They felt like a warning.
All characters and events in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional.Support
Lesley
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