Scotched

I turned off the TV just as they were making futile suggestions on what to do to try and survive the asteroid's impact.

I debated beating the rush, but then my eyes fell on the bottle.

It was the last present my father ever bought me, his last attempt to get me interested in what he liked, given that I'd rejected football, The Stones, and home renovation.

After he passed, I'd kept the scotch untouched, but at this point, why not?

I opened it, poured out a glass, and drank it.

I woke up the next morning confused but happy.