{"id":27502,"date":"2026-04-15T01:12:59","date_gmt":"2026-04-15T05:12:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=27502"},"modified":"2026-04-15T01:13:01","modified_gmt":"2026-04-15T05:13:01","slug":"shirley-jackson-the-intoxicated","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/shirley-jackson-the-intoxicated\/27502\/","title":{"rendered":"Shirley Jackson: The Intoxicated"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis: <\/strong>“The Intoxicated” is a short story by Shirley Jackson, published in 1949 in The Lottery, or, The Adventures of James Harris<\/em>. During a party, a slightly drunk man slips into the kitchen to escape the noise and sober up a little. There he finds Eileen, the hosts’ teenage daughter, who offers him coffee. Somewhat uncomfortable, the man strikes up a conversation he intends to keep trivial. Gradually, however, the exchange takes a disturbing turn when the girl begins to reveal her dark vision of the world’s future.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Shirley<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The Intoxicated<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Shirley Jackson
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was just tight enough and just familiar enough with the house to be able to go out into the kitchen alone, apparently to get ice, but actually to sober up a little; he was not quite enough a friend of the family to pass out on the living-room couch. He left the party behind without reluctance, the group by the piano singing \u201cStardust,\u201d his hostess talking earnestly to a young man with thin clean glasses and a sullen mouth; he walked guardedly through the dining-room where a little group of four or five people sat on the stiff chairs reasoning something out carefully among themselves; the kitchen doors swung abruptly to his touch, and he sat down beside a white enamel table, clean and cold under his hand. He put his glass on a good spot in the green pattern and looked up to find that a young girl was regarding him speculatively from across the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello,\u201d he said. \u201cYou the daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m Eileen,\u201d she said. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She seemed to him baggy and ill-formed; it\u2019s the clothes they wear now, young girls, he thought foggily; her hair was braided down either side of her face, and she looked young and fresh and not dressed-up; her sweater was purplish and her hair was dark. \u201cYou sound nice and sober,\u201d he said, realizing that it was the wrong thing to say to young girls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was just having a cup of coffee,\u201d she said. \u201cMay I get you one?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He almost laughed, thinking that she expected she was dealing knowingly and competently with a rude drunk. \u201cThankyou,\u201d he said, \u201cI believe I will.\u201d He made an effort to focus his eyes; the coffee was hot, and when she put a cup in front of him, saying, \u201cI suppose you\u2019d like it black,\u201d he put his face into the steam and let it go into his eyes, hoping to clear his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt sounds like a lovely party,\u201d she said without longing, \u201ceveryone must be having a fine time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt is a lovely party.\u201d He began to drink the coffee, scalding hot, wanting her to know she had helped him. His head steadied, and he smiled at her. \u201cI feel better,\u201d he said, \u201cthanks to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt must be very warm in the other room,\u201d she said soothingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he did laugh out loud and she frowned, but he could see her excusing him as she went on, \u201cIt was so hot upstairs I thought I\u2019d like to come down for a while and sit out here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWere you asleep?\u201d he asked. \u201cDid we wake you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was doing my homework,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked at her again, seeing her against a background of careful penmanship and themes, worn textbooks and laughter between desks. \u201cYou\u2019re in high school?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m a Senior.\u201d She seemed to wait for him to say something, and then she said, \u201cI was out a year when I had pneumonia.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He found it difficult to think of something to say (ask her about boys? basketball?), and so he pretended he was listening to the distant noises from the front of the house. \u201cIt\u2019s a fine party,\u201d he said again, vaguely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI suppose you like parties,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dumbfounded, he sat staring into his empty coffee cup. He supposed he did like parties; her tone had been faintly surprised, as though next he were to declare for an arena with gladiators fighting wild beasts, or the solitary circular waltzing of a madman in a garden. I\u2019m almost twice your age, my girl, he thought, but it\u2019s not so long since I did homework too. \u201cPlay basketball?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He felt with irritation that she had been in the kitchen first, that she lived in the house, that he must keep on talking to her. \u201cWhat\u2019s your homework about?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m writing a paper on the future of the world,\u201d she said, and smiled. \u201cIt sounds silly, doesn\u2019t it? I think it\u2019s silly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour party out front is talking about it. That\u2019s one reason I came out here.\u201d He could see her thinking that that was not at all the reason he came out here, and he said quickly, \u201cWhat are you saying about the future of the world?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t really think it\u2019s got much future,\u201d she said, \u201cat least the way we\u2019ve got it now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s an interesting time to be alive,\u201d he said, as though he were still at the party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, after all,\u201d she said, \u201cit isn\u2019t as though we didn\u2019t know<\/em> about it in advance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked at her for a minute; she was staring absently at the toe of her saddle shoe, moving her foot softly back and forth, following it with her eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s really a frightening time when a girl sixteen has to think of things like that.\u201d In my day, he thought of saying mockingly, girls thought of nothing but cocktails and necking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m seventeen.\u201d She looked up and smiled at him again. \u201cThere\u2019s a terrible difference,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn my day,\u201d he said, overemphasizing, \u201cgirls thought of nothing but cocktails and necking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s partly the trouble,\u201d she answered him seriously. \u201cIf people had been really, honestly scared when you were young we wouldn\u2019t be so badly off today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His voice had more of an edge than he intended (\u201cWhen I<\/em> was young!\u201d), and he turned partly away from her as though to indicate the half-interest of an older person being gracious to a child: \u201cI imagine we thought we were scared. I imagine all kids sixteen \u2014 seventeen \u2014 think they\u2019re scared. It\u2019s part of a stage you go through, like being boy-crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI keep figuring how it will be.\u201d She spoke very softly, very clearly, to a point just past him on the wall. \u201cSomehow I think of the churches as going first, before even the Empire State Building. And then all the big apartment houses by the river, slipping down slowly into the water with the people inside. And the schools, in the middle of Latin class maybe, while we\u2019re reading C\u00e6sar.\u201d She brought her eyes to his face, looking at him in numb excitement. \u201cEach time we begin a chapter in C\u00e6sar, I wonder if this won\u2019t be the one we never finish. Maybe we in our Latin class will be the last people who ever read C\u00e6sar.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat would be good news,\u201d he said lightly. \u201cI used to hate C\u00e6sar.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI suppose when you were young everyone hated C\u00e6sar,\u201d she said coolly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waited for a minute before he said, \u201cI think it\u2019s a little silly for you to fill your mind with all this morbid trash. Buy yourself a movie magazine and settle down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be able to get all the movie magazines I want,\u201d she said insistently. \u201cThe subways will crash through, you know, and the little magazine stands will all be squashed. You\u2019ll be able to pick up all the candy bars you want, and magazines, and lipsticks and artificial flowers from the five-and-ten, and dresses lying in the street from all the big stores. And fur coats.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI hope the liquor stores will break wide open,\u201d he said, beginning to feel impatient with her, \u201cI\u2019d walk in and help myself to a case of brandy and never worry about anything again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe office buildings will be just piles of broken stones,\u201d she said, her wide emphatic eyes still looking at him. \u201cIf only you could know exactly what minute<\/em> it will come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see,\u201d he said. \u201cI go with the rest. I see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThings will be different afterward,\u201d she said. \u201cEverything that makes the world like it is now will be gone. We\u2019ll have new rules and new ways of living. Maybe there\u2019ll be a law not to live in houses, so then no one can hide from anyone else, you see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe there\u2019ll be a law to keep all seventeen-year-old girls in school learning sense,\u201d he said, standing up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere won\u2019t be any schools,\u201d she said flatly. \u201cNo one will learn anything. To keep from getting back where we are now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d he said, with a little laugh. \u201cYou make it sound very interesting. Sorry I won\u2019t be there to see it.\u201d He stopped, his shoulder against the swinging door into the dining-room. He wanted badly to say something adult and scathing, and yet he was afraid of showing her that he had listened to her, that when he was young people had not talked like that. \u201cIf you have any trouble with your Latin,\u201d he said finally, \u201cI\u2019ll be glad to give you a hand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She giggled, shocking him. \u201cI still do my homework every night,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back in the living-room, with people moving cheerfully around him, the group by the piano now singing \u201cHome on the Range,\u201d his hostess deep in earnest conversation with a tall, graceful man in a blue suit, he found the girl\u2019s father and said, \u201cI\u2019ve just been having a very interesting conversation with your daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His host\u2019s eye moved quickly around the room. \u201cEileen? Where is she?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn the kitchen. She\u2019s doing her Latin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres,\u2019\u201d<\/em> his host said without expression. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA really extraordinary girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His host shook his head ruefully. \u201cKids nowadays,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“The Intoxicated” is a short story by Shirley Jackson, published in 1949 in The Lottery, or, The Adventures of James Harris. During a party, a slightly drunk man slips into the kitchen to escape the noise and sober up a little. There he finds Eileen, the hosts’ teenage daughter, who offers him coffee. Somewhat uncomfortable, the man strikes up a conversation he intends to keep trivial. Gradually, however, the exchange takes a disturbing turn when the girl begins to reveal her dark vision of the world’s future.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":27501,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[572,595,570],"class_list":["post-27502","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-horror-en","tag-shirley-jackson-en","tag-united-states","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":572,"label":"Horror"},{"value":595,"label":"Shirley Jackson"},{"value":570,"label":"United States"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Shirley-Jackson-El-embriagado.webp",768,768,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":419,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":419,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":572,"name":"Horror","slug":"horror-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":572,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":127,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":595,"name":"Shirley Jackson","slug":"shirley-jackson-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":595,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":6,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":570,"name":"United States","slug":"united-states","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":570,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":294,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27502","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27502"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27502\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27503,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27502\/revisions\/27503"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/27501"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27502"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27502"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27502"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}