Promises to Keep...

I've got a bottle of red sitting in a shady hiding spot. If it were on the table right now where I could see it I'm afraid it would turn into a mere bottle of air before you could say, 'alcoholic.' I've made a deal with myself that keeps me from breaking into the booze before sundown; the lease on that one will be good and canceled by April at the latest...
Meanwhile, I bribe myself to get all my shit taken care of, during the day, instead of getting cacked as soon as the first twitches begin to whisper their dark message to my liver; "you're impervious to cirrhosis, yesssssss...."
I wanna drink!
'I'll take out the recycling first.'
Now can we drink?
'Er, those dishes need to be done.'
Dishes are more fun wiv a bit o' sauce...
'After.'
Howboutnow?
'I should make something to eat. Maybe take a vitamin or some such shit.'
Round and round we go; me and the thirsty little imp, anxiously shuffling it's feet on my shoulder. Doin' the imp equivalent of the pee-pee dance it goes, and the other shoulder is suspiciously vacant.
The street-lamps have come to life outside and the imp has transformed into a dragon, uncurling and ravenous, eager to drain the life-blood of it's prey...