The Super Terrific Bankruptcy Happy Hour!
THE SUPER TERRIFIC BANKRUPTCY HAPPY HOUR!
By: Mason Absher
Welcome…Welcome…Welcome…one and all!
… to the Super Terrific Bankruptcy Happy Hour.
That’s right.
Drinks are half-off.
So is my dignity.
The ice is free because I’m not.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the last time I filed…
Chapter 7…
It’s a chapter unlike any other.
A chapter where you don’t “restructure” or “negotiate.”
You just… wave a white flag made of old credit card statements.
If you find yourself in a similar situation, you’re sure to ask…well…how did I get here?
Well, I’ll tell you.
For me, there were no yachts or mountains of cocaine.
No golden carousels with hydraulic ponies in my rumpus room.
I earned my bankruptcy the old-fashioned American way:
Theatre school.
Freelance invoices.
Bar tabs.
A can’t miss business or two.
And the fatal belief that everything was “gonna work out.”
It started small.
A late payment.
A bounced cheque.
A pawn loan abandoned
And one day you wake up,
You check your bank account
And it just says:
Nope.
I stopped checking it, honestly.
The low point?
There was no single low point.
Every low point was lower than the last.
But here’s the twist.
Once everything collapsed?
I felt… calm.
I felt…weirdly… honest.
No more pretending.
No more “I’m just in between gigs.”
No more “I’m building something!”
Just… me.
And a mountain of debt that legally wasn’t mine anymore.
To celebrate, I decided to host a live game show.
I called it:
The Super Terrific Bankruptcy Happy Hour!
Games include:
“What’s in My Wallet?” (spoiler: nothing)
“Guess That Credit Score!”
and of course…
Duck. Duck. Default.
The food?
Mozzarella sticks.
The kind that burn your mouth and your pride.
Because nothing pairs better with financial ruin than hot dairy and ranch.
And you know what?
I wasn’t alone.
Turns out everyone has been here.
Or somewhere like it.
Friends.
Neighbors.
That one guy who used to sell me essential oils out of his trunk?
He was right.
This is a cleansing.
I’m not saying it’s easy.
The shame still knocks.
The fear still visits.
But the power’s out,
and I’m not answering the door.
I’m broke.
But I’m also… free.
Like a raccoon in a Dollar General parking lot.
Unhinged.
But resourceful.
So if you’re here tonight,
If you’ve ever hit the bottom,
If your dreams are on layaway and your plans declined your invite—
(beat)
Pull up a folding chair.
Grab a mozzarella stick.
And raise a glass.
Because if you can laugh at it?
You’re not ruined.
You’re just…
In a new phase.
To bankruptcy.
To broke
To brilliance.
To mozzarella sticks…
and the stories we never wanted, but well…here they are