Whiskey Oh?: A short story by the writer

When someone said, "Bomb" Gary almost didn't notice. He had been minding his own business, as he usually does with headphones crammed into his ears, while peering down at his phone. The shanties and songs from Gilbert and Sullivan were more of an interest to him. He'd been reading up on them because he wanted something to sing while he was alone. Looking up from his seat he noticed people looking at him, others, and towards the driver. For a moment he realized something was wrong. His heart rate went up and he wanted to panic with the rest of the lot.

But he didn't, at least not outwardly. He turned off his music, unplugged his headphones, and shoved them in his pocket along with his phone. He tipped his head into the aisle to see what was going on. His fingers were pulsing with the adrenaline. No one seemed to notice his excitement, since they where already hopped up on their own.

He stopped thinking about those shanties he was reading. No amount of:
"Whiskey is the life of man, 
Always was since the world began!"
Would calm his nerves. Although a little voice in his head suggested that while the words might not calm him, actual whiskey might. He smiled nervously, even though no one else seemed to be smiling. And thankfully to his surprised, no one really noticed.

A distinct, but fuzzy sounding voice was heard overhead. It was the driver speaking into the intercom, but it was unintelligible gibberish. A woman behind Gary wouldn't stop babbling about what needed to be done. Soon the bus rolled to a stop, and people shuffled off the bus.

Gary shrugged, smiled, and walked over to another bus stop. The police would later report a pressure-cooker bomb was found. It exploded when a bomb technician tried to defuse it. He lived, surprisingly.

As Gary stood there waiting for another bus he could hear the lyrics in his head.
"Some like whiskey, some like beer,
I wish I had a barrel here."

He pulled out his headphones and phone, turn his music back on, and tried to forget the day's events
He knew others might not forget, but he would do is best to block it out of his mind at the least. That night he drank. But this night he celebrated life through death. And not the other way around, though he was fond of it. But not that night. Not at all.