The Competition - Flash Fiction

(EDITED, the bottom of the post got deleted)

They had lost count of the shots they had taken. All they could taste was whiskey, an intoxicate wasteland filled their mouths. But the competition was not over. No. There had to be a winner.

"I'm the bigger man," Greg said as he lifted the glass. Then he downed his twelfth or so shot.

"No," Manny said as he picked up his glass, "you are nothing compared to me."

The bartender, the judge of this contest picked up the bottle. He was an older man. Three teeth missing. The noticeable ones. He egged both of the contestants on. As did the rest of the bar: a woman whose shirt did not fit, a man who was too drunk to know what was going on and an ex of Manny. They cheered with each shot.

Another two shots were taken. This was it. Greg started wobble. Manny could not stand up.

"The next shot is the winner," the bartender said.

They both lifted their glasses. Their vision was shot. With great effort they swallowed the last shot. Greg burped, then slipped off his chair. Manny leaned back and fell with his feet in. The crowd went wild. Then there was silence.

Greg and Manny were passed out. Everyone went back to went they were doing.

Greg pissed himself.

Manny vomited.

It was a tie. They were both losers.

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