Help to Strangers – to do or not to do?

“Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you I drink too much and that's an issue but I'm okay Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them But I hope I never see them again...”

The drunkard gulped another mouthful from his bottle and sang along with the American DJ duo.

“No...!” said Rita.

“No? No for what?” asked Steve wiping his mouth.

“No... I don’t look pretty in a hotel bar! And, I’m not going to pull you closer in the backseat of my rover!” replied Rita vehemently, as she drove her rover on a deserted road with this drunkard beside her.

“But I didn’t ask you too! It’s the song!” Steve turned to look at her.

“Oh... you can say that! But I know what you mean by singing those words!” Rita said forcefully.

“Oh Bother! Dash! Blow! (hic) Change the song then!” he said changing the song.

“Here's to the ones that we got Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories Of everything we've been through...”

“No, it can’t!” interjected Rita.

Steve choked and spluttered.

“Sorry! What ‘it’ can’t?” Steve looked at her dumbfounded and finally managed to speak.

“It can’t bring back memories of me!” Rita answered giving him a disgusted look.

“But who said it would?” Steve was incredulous.

“I know you were going to say that!” Rita glanced at him and then turned her gaze on the deserted road again.

“Oh God! Madame! (hic) It’s just a song!” Steve said running his hands through his hair in exasperation. “And anyway the second line says... Cheers to the wish you were here. And you are already here! So how can I wish that you ‘were’ here?”

“Ahhh... That’s a point. I’m afraid, technically you’re right!” agreed Rita grudgingly.

“Thank you, Madame!” Steve grinned and took another swig. “Have we reached?”

“Yes, almost!” she said turning left at the fork. “There it is!”

“Ah! Thank goodness! (hic)” he said sighing and hiccupping.

“By the way... I didn’t ask you what you do. You drink so much. You must be a politician!” stated Rita peeking at him smugly.

“That was a good guess but I’m afraid I must disappoint you. And, we’re finally here!” said the drunkard as Rita pulled up in the parking of the airport and fumbled with the car’s door.

“Wait a minute! You can’t leave till you tell me who you are,” said Rita through clenched teeth. “I hate suspense unless it’s me who’s creating it!”

“Really? Steve looked at her through narrowed eyes. “And who do you think you are...Agatha Christie or Arthur Conan Doyle? Thanks for the lift. (hic)Bye!”

He fumbled and opened the door of the car.

“Well... if you must know... I’m a writer!” she said breezily, shrugging her shoulders and patting her hair.

“Ahhh...(hic) That’s why you were determined to put meanings into my words and words into my mouth!” he said staggering out of the rover.

“What? How dare you! Who do you think you are?” Rita screamed angrily.

Steve slammed the door shut, winked at her, hiccupped and slurred in hushed tones, “Well! Well! Well! I’ll tell you a secret... (hic) I’m an out of business pirate in need of a professional change. I’m hoping my stint at becoming a hijacker will be much more beneficial. Don’t tell anyone!”

“Ohhh...” said Rita. Her eyes round with wonder.

She stared at the retreating figure as he staggered along, taking a swig from his hip flask now and then. An interesting plot for the next novel took shape in her mind and she smiled. All else was forgotten!