A Carton of Cigarettes and a Bag of Double Bubble

3


I dropped the economy size bag of gum, and the bottle of Bacardi under the clerks nose, as I came up to the counter. I must have looked like hell, because he kept giving me this look out of the corner of his eye that showed he was trying not to look. I expected him to give me some shit about the alcohol, but he left well enough the hell alone. As I stopped outside of the goddamned store and popped a few pieces of gum into my mouth, a convertible with the top down come fuckin’ rollin’ up in front of the gas station.
There were six people in that fuckin’ goddam car and every single goddam one of ‘em were from my fuckin’ school. And if those sons of bitches John and Ronald weren’t leadin’ the goddam pack I’m a bastard. They were there with one other of their lackeys and and three cheerleaders.
“Well, look who the hell we have here!” John was climbing outta the car and the other two followed suit while the girls sat back and laughed, smoking like goddam chiminies.
“You still got my fuckin’ gun? Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, faggot!” Keese was obviously drunk as a fuckin’ bastard, screaming to the top of his fuckin’ lungs.
“Ditch the macho shit, cowboy, I’m not fuckin’ buying any tonight.” I said as bland as I could as I opened the bottle of Bacardi.
“Wait a fuckin’ minute! How the hell did you get that?! I’ve been comin’ in this goddamn place for years and they never gave me one goddam drop!” Oh, he was a bright one alright. I took a big fuckin’ slug outta the bottle, then capped it.
“Really?” I said, looking at the girls in his car. I knew who they were, but they all looked away when I looked at them. Girls are weird that way, they fuckin’ stare a goddam hole through you, but as soon as you look at them they give you that fuck off look, or throw their heads way the motherfuck around in the opposite goddamn direction. These weren’t much different.
“Nevermind the goddam bitches, I’m talkin to you, asshole!” I could already here the music building up inside my head screaming for me to kill these fuckin’ assholes, all three of ‘em. I just kept lookin’ around, ignorin’ the son of a bitch. I slid the bottle of Bacardi into my vest and turned to walk off.
The bastard whirled me around and grabbed my by the skuff of my fuckin’ shirt.
“Don’t try to walk away from me, motherfucker. You might get hurt.” I laughed in his goddam face, the music screaming through my skull low and slow, but I knew it was fixing to bust the hell loose, and woe to them that got in my fuckin’ way.
“I’m going to let you back the hell off, John,” I said slow and even, “And if I were you I would fuckin’ take it. If you don’t I’m goin’ to stick your head so far in the fuckin’ clouds you’ll hear fuckin’ harp music before you start back down, if you come down at all, motherfucker.”
His face looked like somebody had a goddam pump, pumping it like a fuckin’ basketball ready to blow. Then it started to twist outta shape, he looked like a fuckin’ balloon. I didn’t wait for him to pop; I kneed the fucker right in the gut. I had barely stopped bleeding from my last motherfuckin’ fight, and now I was in another one. I wheeled around screamin’ my head off at the other two.
“GODDAM MOTHERFUCKER! I’M HERE TO KILL YOU, MAN! GODDAM YOU! AHAHHAHAHAHH! THIS MOTHERFUCKER IS GONNA DIE, BACK THE HELL UP OR THE ANGEL OF DEATH WILL HEAR YOUR CRIES AND TAKE YOU OVER THE RIVER STYX AHAHAHAHHAHAH! WATCH THAT SHIT, COWBOY, OR I’LL TEAR HIS MOTHERFUCKIN’ HEAD OFF, AFTER THE HELL ALL I’M JUST THE BIG BAD FENRIS WOLF SENT TO DEVOUR THE WORLD NOT MOTHERFUCKIN’ SAVE IT, HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!” and shit like that as I grab John around the neck. I must have knocked the wind out of him, because he can’t fight much. I quit yellin’ because the clerk inside might have called the goddam police, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of the motherfuckin’ week in jail.
“I suggest you motherfuckers get back the hell in the goddam car, or I’ll snap John’s neck before you can say ‘fucked the bitch’.” Then I turned to the girls in the car like a goddam preacher. “Why do you let them talk about you like that!? They don’t respect you, they don’t love you, hell, they don’t even like you! All the hell they want is to get between your goddam legs, and throw you away like a month old porno mag! Jesus H. Christ! Why the hell do you hang around these losers?!” I threw John down on the ground when his buddies were in the car then I kicked the bastard as hard as I could. Son of a bitch was probably too drunk to even feel it.
“Fuck you, man.” then I walked away, popping another piece of gum into my mouth. I doubted it would get rid of the bad taste I had. I headed for a club I thought might be open at that hour, leaving John laying on the ground, the music fading from my head like the station behind me.
The club I was headed for was one of those multi-leveled dance fuckin’ joints with all the techno music and lights that make you think you’re on LSD. I kinda like the feelin’ I get when I’m in the middle of the dance floor just standin’ there, not dancin’ but just standin’. Like the calm eye of the fuckin’ hurricane. Told you, I’m a madman motherfucker. I walked a while lookin’ around at this or that or something I thought was funny, laughin’ my goddam head off the whole way. Wasn’t much the hell else to do.
I reached into my vest for the bottle, instead I grabbed my copy of “The Catcher in the Rye” I kinda laughed and almost cried at once. I sat down right there in the middle of the fuckin’ sidewalk and started readin’ my favorite part, where Holden’s sitting in the bar acting like he was shot. I knew this entire book start to finish, staring with “If” and ending with “everybody”. I had every edition of the book ever printed, the same with “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. Sometimes I felt like these books were the only thing that kept me from fuckin’ busting loose and doing something crazy. I carried them everywhere with me like a good luck talisman. The two books I had with me were read to the point they were almost falling the fuck apart. I didn’t care, I had gone through ten copies of each like this, and would probably go through ten more. Finally, I got up and put the books back in my vest and started off once more towards the club.
The lights from the club were flashin’ like a goddam stripper, when I got to the street it was located on. Outside the door I could hear the music, muffled by the thick oak door. I hesitated before openin’ it up, just a goddam phobia about these places. I was always kinda scared I would drown in the sea of people, like I said a goddam phobia. I finally slipped through the door, and into chaos.
People were dancin’, drinkin’, druggin’, take your fuckin’ pick it was there. I moved out into that sea of people, calm, as always, once inside the beast there was nothing to fear, it was just getting in that was a bitch. I saw guys dancin’ with girls, guys, dancin’ with guys, girls dancin’ with other girls, girls kissin’ other girls, and the same for the guys. I didn’t pay any attention, I moved immediately to the stairs and headed for the fuckin’ roof. Up there sometimes they’re playin’ classical music, and it’s nice. I reached the stairs and turned to look one last time around the chaos center, when look who’s comin’ up the stairs. Miss Park. Miss Drive-by. Miss “Thank You” and not one other fuckin’ word. I turned around and headed for the roof, before she saw me. I walked out into the clean air and was greeted by the sound of classical music.
I will tell you one fuckin’ thing right now. I know the name of one classical song and that's it. I like almost all classical, but I only know one song’s name. Now you can play me something and I’ll say “Hey! That's that song isn’t it?” I never can remember the fuckin’ name. I walked over to the railing beside the door and waited to see if she comes up here or stops below. I wait a few minutes and lo and behold here she come through the fuckin’ door and to the fuckin’ railin’ right beside me. She didn’t see me even when I shot her a look sideways. I kinda liked that. So we stood their lookin’ down on New York, call me crazy but I kinda like to think we were there together.
“You know I took a beating for you earlier?”
Now. That probably wasn’t the best thing I coulda said, but it was weighing in pretty heavy on my fuckin’ mind right about then. I was sore as hell and it was three-seventeen, and I was a little confused about the drive-by thing so that was the first thing outta my goddam mouth.
She jumped a little bit when she heard me speak and then she jumped a hellova lot more when she saw who I was. I took my cabbie hat off and took a deep bow. She looked at me for a minute before she said anything.
“Why the fuck are you following me?!” I stopped for a minute mid-fuckin’-bow and looked at her.
“Because your so damn cute.” that was the alcohol talkin’ . Never could handle much.
“I said thank you dammit, what more do you want?” she looked almost as tired as I felt.
“I want you to dance with me.” I don’t know why I said it, but it was the first thing outta my mouth, so believing that my brain knew what it was makin me say I followed suit.
“What?!” she was damn cute.
“I said I want you to dance with me. D-A-N-C-E. Dance with me. Webster's dictionary states dance as a-,”
“I know what it means, you drunk bastard, but is that why you’ve been following me all night?”
“You bet, I picked that cafe, because I said, ‘Now this is a place a cute girl like her would spray bullets at!’” I was so lightheaded I felt like I could float right off that goddam roof!
She didn’t say another word. She took my hand and we danced, ballroom style. She was pretty good, considering I had never fuckin’ danced in my life, let alone like this. As we finished the dance after the song, we returned to the railing.
“Satisfied now?” she asked exasperated.
“Right the hell on.” I said.
“What did you mean you took a beating for me tonight?”
“You think I look like this all the time?” blood soaked clothes and cuts showing clearly in the moonlight.
“I didn’t know. Who did it?” she asked absently.
“Our friends from the park. Bastards caught up with me on the goddamn subway.” That got a reaction outta her. She looked embarassed, which made me feel sorry, as hell I had mentioned it. Like I said, I always say something wrong in front of a girl.
“Look I’m sorry I mentioned it.” I said.
“No, its OK you didn’t know is all.” she said quietly.
“Didn’t know what?”
“I’m a prostitute.”
Damn.
Damn damn.
Fuck!
“A prostitute? Then those guys were your business for tonight? Jesus, I’m sorry!”
“It’s OK. In fact its kinda sweet that you would think I was in trouble.”
“Lady, those guys had a knife and I think for some reason it had your name on it.” I said after a minute.
“Knife?”
“Where the hell do you think I got these cuts from? The chef downstairs?” she didn’t say anything for a minute.
“My name is Tina Dae.” she offered me her hand.
“My name is Godfrey Michaels, but my frien- well people call me H.C.” I took her hand and fuckin’ kissed it. I’m a chivalrous motherfucker, I told you. Five O’ clock found us leaving the club together.