Carols sung around Christmastime
A young boy I knew down in the snows
His peak so far upon the mountains, grey mists
Could only cloud his joys, for a boy knows
That Christmas only comes once a year
And when the presents appear in the mornings so clear
That boy can search inside, see a lump of coal
All of his endeavors unknown as of yet, but listen in the quiet…
Stoic parents coming home afternoons fatigued, no noel
That they sing under their breath, television riot
All a dream and a journey away, but can be seen
As it is shown, not childish, but brilliant in its travesty
Beautiful and bold, the movements restrained
Like the measures of a pain riddled tune
Cartoons on Sunday, animated motions engrained
And once the fog clears, see a full moon
Fathers words harsh, yet mother says, “There is nothing to fear.”
Through the peril, boy remembers, “Christmas only comes once a year.”
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Great Lake- Poetry
Are our dreams laden in gold?
Do we dream together through this life we hold?
The many trials we face
Bear faith to painfully erase our pasts
As memorandums set on clocks
And whether or not some shamelessly post them on mirrors
Or work in tandem to make these pains clearer
But ode’ and taken by your many wonders
There lives a glimpse of hope
In knowing that no matter which mast we build
We’re all on the same boat
And as we grow, by our own convictions,
And by purest truth, swift ambition
Shall we stay afloat
Do we dream together through this life we hold?
The many trials we face
Bear faith to painfully erase our pasts
As memorandums set on clocks
And whether or not some shamelessly post them on mirrors
Or work in tandem to make these pains clearer
But ode’ and taken by your many wonders
There lives a glimpse of hope
In knowing that no matter which mast we build
We’re all on the same boat
And as we grow, by our own convictions,
And by purest truth, swift ambition
Shall we stay afloat
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Bad Breed, A Short Story
After hours at the cabana stirred a different breed. There was the sues chef from the local grill, a girl from the dance hall, and her counterparts. Let’s not forget the many men and bullocks looking to take advantage of the dunce breed, those women… And they had, with keen interest, a sense of the times. To fucking breed. To send the signal of the seed. Forget mom and dad, they met at the cabana, in their time, and with their intuition, may surely seem stupid to their children now. Those old stories of he said she said must’ve sounded like some alien talk to the youth of the times… Spoiled perverts.
“Chef Michaels always cooks them so they turn out juicy. Most places, you can tell they cooked it wrong, but not at our grill.” The sues chef spoke with the bartender.
“My wife likes to grill lamb. I never understood it. Perhaps she thinks being different is important. But with food?” The bartender explained.
There was a karaoke, and only those without ears could possibly enjoy it. One of the bullocks sang miserably, Moonlight Bay, and one might find, without inquiry, that he was quite drunk. The sues chef smiled at the bartender, nodding toward the bullock.
“Looks like we have our next American Idol.” She said.
“I agree. He’d make a good blooper.” The bartender replied.
On the dance floor, the girl was dancing with a guy, both out of sync.
“Do they enjoy being stupid?” The sues chef asked.
The bartender shook his head. He was an interesting man. His heart was connected to his mind, and he could no longer laugh at the bunch at the cabana. He saw them as a very mixed up, bad breed.
“Where did you say you learned to dance?” The man asked the girl from the dance hall.
“Mary Macomb Academy.” She replied.
The answer she gave was short, and the man could only hope she was as shallow as him.
“I went to State College for a while.” The man spoke.
The girl from the dance hall seemed to ignore his statement, continuing to dance. She rubbed her backside into him. With these kind of moves, what purpose does talking serve?
“So what are you going to do?” The man asked.
She stared down at the floor oddly, then glanced at him for a moment.
“What?” She asked.
He made no reply, continuing to dance with her.
“Apparently you’re doing enough.” He said.
She stopped dancing and approached the table where her friends sat at. He could see them talking, how she began to laugh after her friends glanced at him for a second. They all broke out in laughter. After a painful retreat, he sat down next to his friend, who wore loose fitting jeans, a football jersey, and a bad stare. With a drink in hand, he listened.
“Maybe I just wanted to know her.” He explained to his friend.
“You don’t ’get to know’ anybody at the cabana. You come here, get drunk, get rubbed, and go home with a girl.” His friend replied.
“Why don’t you go ask a girl to dance?” The man asked his friend.
His friend looked at the dance floor. His thoughts seemed to drift to some memory, repelling him from wanting to dance.
“I have my reasons. I’m only here with you and Justin.” He replied.
The sues chef continued to speak with the bartender. The two were on the topic of the war.
“Do we really know what’s going on? They can tell us a million things, and we would have to believe it. Within the realm of opinion though, anyone can see it differently.” She said.
The bartender slid a beer to three college boys to her far right side. One of them smiled and began whispering about the sues chef.
“I think you just sparked interest.” The bartender said to her, motioning his eyes to the three.
She looked at them for a second, and then back to the bartender. She rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Am I sexy?” She asked him.
He seemed to blush, so she returned to the original subject.
“Anyways… What do you think about the war?” She asked.
“In my opinion, anyone who burns us deserves to have their asses handed to them.” He replied
The sues chef looked at the boys, who stared back at her smiling. The ringleader who ordered the beer wore a hoop earring, vintage jeans, aqua t-shirt with an eagle symbol, and an disquieted stare as if some malice had been stirred and boiled below the surface of his composition.
“Hey. What’s going on?” The ringleader asked.
She felt odd, trying to think of an answer. She was unsure of how she felt about the three, noticing how antsy and odd they seemed.
“Nothing much.” She replied, smiling.
Another bullock began to sing karaoke. The bartender noticed how young he was, and began to feel anxious.
“Hey, who is that guy?” He asked the sues chef.
“Oh that, I don’t know.” She replied.
The three boys moved over a few stools and sat next to her.
“Damn!” Justin said to his friends.
“You see that blonde?” He asked pointing to her.
The blonde danced with a few girlfriends, all sporting short, sporty skirts and loose tops. The three were sitting on a black table with cushioned seats watching on. Multicolored lights lit up the table and it’s dwellers like a space ship coming to land. The music boomed and vibrated, so they had to shout to hear one another.
“Yeah!” His friend replied.
“I see her!” The other spoke up.
“She’s coming home with me. Her name’s Jessica!” He explained.
The man who struck out earlier with the dancer looked at the girl enviously.
“What time are you guys going to head out?” He asked.
“I’ll order another drink, then we’ll roll!” He replied, smiling.
“Yeah, your boy here struck out with that dancer. He’s really ashamed!” The friend with the aversion to the dance floor stated.
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of queers on the East side!” Justin joked.
The two looked on drinking their beers. Justin stood up and strode to the dance floor. It got quiet for a minute, and the kid that struck out started to speak,
“You have to know… I mean, I’ve seen it time after time. You get a girl, you don’t try to be her friend. The only way you can score these days is by being a heartless prick. You have to like your beer, your car, your clothing… Hell, man, even your deodorant. Then you’re cultured. At least so as to be on the same level as them, which is slightly cultured, and highly pompous. Guys like Justin could sing the lyrics of a song over and over and over without ever knowing who wrote it. He can laugh at the soda commercials that don’t even have to try anymore. They just show two guys doing something stupid, and Justin will buy it. At least they know their target audience.”
The last friend who sat beside the one with the aversion, Donnie rolled his eyes and poured another drink from the pitcher which sat in the middle of the lit up table.
“You know, Donny… You’re pretty intelligent.” His friend said.
“Don’t sweat it kid. You see that girl over there?” Donny asked, showing him a redhead dancing with her friends.
“That’s who you get. You ask her how she’s doing, then if she’d like to dance. Don’t say shit about what you did in school, what you want to be, or what she wants to be. When you get her alone, and you know you’re going to tap it, tap it. Then find out about her. What‘s your name again man? ” Donny spoke.
“Eric.” The boy replied.
“Alright Eric, go get her! She’s waiting!” Donnie shouted as the music started up again.
Eric smiled and stood up. He took a deep breath and made his way to the redhead.
The bartender began to feel alone, and now that the sues chef was talking to the three guys, most likely predators, he thought, he could focus on the young drunk at the karaoke stage.
The young man had sang three songs already, and needed to be removed. “Three times too many. Who the hell’s buying drinks for him?” The bartender asked himself aloud.
“I’m a sues chef at Davie’s Grill.” She said to the ringleader.
His friends nodded and laughed in silent admiration. They knew she was decent, and innocent. A perfect target.
“Wow. You can cook. You should cook me something sometime.” The ringleader spoke.
The sues chef wasn’t sure how to respond, because she wanted to fit in anywhere she could. There were nights when she would talk to the bartender and drink. That would be it. She was 24, and attended a culinary arts college part time. She had it worked out, but she never really deviated from her parent’s rules. She was still a virgin, and cringed at the sight of some television shows where couples met at bars, told sexually suggestive jokes, and fought. It was as if she had a block against it. But now, she couldn’t identify just how drawn in she was.
“Yeah. My mom can cook pretty good.” The ringleader spoke
“Aw… Your mom. Are you a momma’s boy?” She joked.
His friends laughed at him, teasing,
“Aw. You’re out after curfew!” One shouted.
“Better call the police!” Teased the other.
She laughed along with them, putting pressure on the ringleader.
“It’s about your bedtime, so don’t give me shit, Weasel.” He said to one of his friends.
The sues chef joined began laughing, but stopped after noticing Weasel‘s glare as he sat next to the ringleader impatiently. The bartender hopped over the bar after cutting off the music and walked briskly to the stage. He took the microphone away from the boy, who continued to sing “In this Car“. He grabbed him by the ear and pulled him offstage.
“Hey man! You can’t do that!” One of the boy’s friends argued.
“Shut up!” The bartender shouted to the small crowd that were being entertained by the little singing maudlin.
“Let me see your drivers license.” The bartender demanded.
The young man looked at him stupidly, beginning to get nervous.
“Huh?” He asked.
The bartender reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.
“September the third, 1989.” The bartender read aloud, shocked by how young he was.
“You’re underage. A minor.” He said before turning to his friends.
“This can cost me my liquor license. I’m giving all of you five minutes to clear out before I call the police!” The bartender shouted to the group.
With looks of surprise and amusement, they began to scramble, and before five minutes elapsed, had cleared out through the back door.
Eric approached the redhead with a confident smile.
“Hi, how are you?” He asked.
She smiled, then her friends walked away, seeming relieved.
“Oh, just fine.” She replied, blushing slightly.
“What’s your name?” He asked her, beginning to feel himself turning red.
“Amy.” She replied.
After a while, Eric realized how smart this girl was. How she liked to talk about schoolwork instead of dance, how she seemed interested in him. He didn’t have to try. He knew he could score with her.
“Would you like to dance?” He asked.
She smiled, still blushing.
“Sure.” She replied.
The two started to dance to another tune, awkwardly at first, but then in rhythm. She was unaware of just how kinky he would be. She was his first experiment, by doing little things like snapping her panty line to her skin like a whip, caress her backside as she grinded into him, and fondling with her bra strap, snapping it against her skin in the same manner.
“I guess your good at this.” She said, getting carried away.
The friend with the aversion watched them, continuing to drink. He despised his friend, but knew he was comfortably seeded among the lot who barhopped trying to get laid every Saturday. A bunch of idiots they were, he thought. But he couldn’t get out. They had him at a young age. All it took was a little bit of booze and some porno magazines…
The bartender sighed as he watched the sues chef speak with the three. He knew their kind, but wouldn’t dare interfere. He still felt, however, a need to protect her. All the nights she had came and drank, talking to him, a lowly bartender. How she seemed so unaware of the ugliness out there.
“I like that movie. Yeah.” The ringleader lied after listening the Sue chef ramble on about a movie she liked.
The sues chef felt herself becoming attracted to him. She drank her beer, looking on at the three.
“Do you want another beer?” He asked.
“Yeah.” She replied.
“How about a real drink?” He asked.
She thought about it, then agreed with a nod.
The bartender reluctantly handed the ringleader another drink. The sues chef was drunk enough, and now appeared as though she needed to be carried out.
“You want to go see a movie with me and my friend?” Eric asked the redhead.
She wanted more of him, feeling as though she’d now been accepted. She finally found someone who understood her and wanted to appreciate the person she really was.
“Okay.” She replied.
The two walked over to Donny and the other, who met their presence together with little surprise. Justin had already left, and Donny was not surprised to find the look on the redhead’s face, how she seemed victorious. For shame and for shit, he thought.
“Let’s go. This lovely lady wants to see a movie.” Eric said.
“Alright.” Donnie replied.
“Why don’t you two go it alone?” The other asked curiously.
The redhead looked at Eric, who had only one thing in mind: Get laid. Leave these losers behind and head out. So Eric and the girl, who knew her friends wouldn’t miss her, left. That’s what they brought her there for. If she was ever going to be a real woman like them, who knew so much about the real world, she was going to have to meet a real man.
The bartender watched the two head out. He knew that the redhead had come in with friends. It’s out of my control, who cares, he thought. But what about the sues chef? He asked himself. What a screwed up lot they were, these kids. Instead of dwelling on this notion, he returned his attention to the sues chef and the gang of three.
“Wow! I like that too!” She laughed out loud.
The three were crazed with laughter, watching her. The ringleader smiled.
“Well…” He said.
“Well…” She teased.
They laughed.
“I guess it’s time to head out. You want to join me?” The ringleader laughed.
“Ahem.” Weasel cleared his throat.
“I mean, us?” The ringleader asked, his eyes narrowed devilishly.
The sues chef could hardly say no. She hadn’t drank like this before. And the three seemed so interesting to her, but she couldn’t place exactly why.
“Okay.” She slurred.
The bartender grabbed a baseball bat from under the counter. The way the three picked her off the barstool and made their way to the door angered him. She had nobody, and they seemed more than willing to be her guide into some hell they had planned. Just as they approached the exit, the bartender hopped over the counter.
“I’ll break your goddamn heads if you leave here with her!” He shouted at them.
They scattered and made their way out. The sues chef slumped over on a bar stool.
“Are you all right Duffy?” He asked.
She looked around, dazed.
“I never found out… What’s your name again?” She asked distantly, looking at the bartender as though she were lost.
“You can call me daddy.” The bartender replied, feeling damn sick at how vulnerable she’d become.
“Daddy.” She slurred.
He sat her on a chair behind the bar. The karaoke stopped, and the kids began to clear out. The bartender closed the blinds, turned off the television sets, and dimmed the lights. He cut off all the lights on the dance floor once he finished cleaning up and returning to the bar. There was only the task of getting Duffy home left. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. As he turned off the remaining lights and opened the front door, greeted by a cold breeze, he looked around outside. He could only imagine what lay in wait on other nights, for other girls like the sues chef. There were some cars here and there, all blaring music that could be heard blocks away.
“What a bad breed. The whole damn lot.” The bartender grumbled.
“Chef Michaels always cooks them so they turn out juicy. Most places, you can tell they cooked it wrong, but not at our grill.” The sues chef spoke with the bartender.
“My wife likes to grill lamb. I never understood it. Perhaps she thinks being different is important. But with food?” The bartender explained.
There was a karaoke, and only those without ears could possibly enjoy it. One of the bullocks sang miserably, Moonlight Bay, and one might find, without inquiry, that he was quite drunk. The sues chef smiled at the bartender, nodding toward the bullock.
“Looks like we have our next American Idol.” She said.
“I agree. He’d make a good blooper.” The bartender replied.
On the dance floor, the girl was dancing with a guy, both out of sync.
“Do they enjoy being stupid?” The sues chef asked.
The bartender shook his head. He was an interesting man. His heart was connected to his mind, and he could no longer laugh at the bunch at the cabana. He saw them as a very mixed up, bad breed.
“Where did you say you learned to dance?” The man asked the girl from the dance hall.
“Mary Macomb Academy.” She replied.
The answer she gave was short, and the man could only hope she was as shallow as him.
“I went to State College for a while.” The man spoke.
The girl from the dance hall seemed to ignore his statement, continuing to dance. She rubbed her backside into him. With these kind of moves, what purpose does talking serve?
“So what are you going to do?” The man asked.
She stared down at the floor oddly, then glanced at him for a moment.
“What?” She asked.
He made no reply, continuing to dance with her.
“Apparently you’re doing enough.” He said.
She stopped dancing and approached the table where her friends sat at. He could see them talking, how she began to laugh after her friends glanced at him for a second. They all broke out in laughter. After a painful retreat, he sat down next to his friend, who wore loose fitting jeans, a football jersey, and a bad stare. With a drink in hand, he listened.
“Maybe I just wanted to know her.” He explained to his friend.
“You don’t ’get to know’ anybody at the cabana. You come here, get drunk, get rubbed, and go home with a girl.” His friend replied.
“Why don’t you go ask a girl to dance?” The man asked his friend.
His friend looked at the dance floor. His thoughts seemed to drift to some memory, repelling him from wanting to dance.
“I have my reasons. I’m only here with you and Justin.” He replied.
The sues chef continued to speak with the bartender. The two were on the topic of the war.
“Do we really know what’s going on? They can tell us a million things, and we would have to believe it. Within the realm of opinion though, anyone can see it differently.” She said.
The bartender slid a beer to three college boys to her far right side. One of them smiled and began whispering about the sues chef.
“I think you just sparked interest.” The bartender said to her, motioning his eyes to the three.
She looked at them for a second, and then back to the bartender. She rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Am I sexy?” She asked him.
He seemed to blush, so she returned to the original subject.
“Anyways… What do you think about the war?” She asked.
“In my opinion, anyone who burns us deserves to have their asses handed to them.” He replied
The sues chef looked at the boys, who stared back at her smiling. The ringleader who ordered the beer wore a hoop earring, vintage jeans, aqua t-shirt with an eagle symbol, and an disquieted stare as if some malice had been stirred and boiled below the surface of his composition.
“Hey. What’s going on?” The ringleader asked.
She felt odd, trying to think of an answer. She was unsure of how she felt about the three, noticing how antsy and odd they seemed.
“Nothing much.” She replied, smiling.
Another bullock began to sing karaoke. The bartender noticed how young he was, and began to feel anxious.
“Hey, who is that guy?” He asked the sues chef.
“Oh that, I don’t know.” She replied.
The three boys moved over a few stools and sat next to her.
“Damn!” Justin said to his friends.
“You see that blonde?” He asked pointing to her.
The blonde danced with a few girlfriends, all sporting short, sporty skirts and loose tops. The three were sitting on a black table with cushioned seats watching on. Multicolored lights lit up the table and it’s dwellers like a space ship coming to land. The music boomed and vibrated, so they had to shout to hear one another.
“Yeah!” His friend replied.
“I see her!” The other spoke up.
“She’s coming home with me. Her name’s Jessica!” He explained.
The man who struck out earlier with the dancer looked at the girl enviously.
“What time are you guys going to head out?” He asked.
“I’ll order another drink, then we’ll roll!” He replied, smiling.
“Yeah, your boy here struck out with that dancer. He’s really ashamed!” The friend with the aversion to the dance floor stated.
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of queers on the East side!” Justin joked.
The two looked on drinking their beers. Justin stood up and strode to the dance floor. It got quiet for a minute, and the kid that struck out started to speak,
“You have to know… I mean, I’ve seen it time after time. You get a girl, you don’t try to be her friend. The only way you can score these days is by being a heartless prick. You have to like your beer, your car, your clothing… Hell, man, even your deodorant. Then you’re cultured. At least so as to be on the same level as them, which is slightly cultured, and highly pompous. Guys like Justin could sing the lyrics of a song over and over and over without ever knowing who wrote it. He can laugh at the soda commercials that don’t even have to try anymore. They just show two guys doing something stupid, and Justin will buy it. At least they know their target audience.”
The last friend who sat beside the one with the aversion, Donnie rolled his eyes and poured another drink from the pitcher which sat in the middle of the lit up table.
“You know, Donny… You’re pretty intelligent.” His friend said.
“Don’t sweat it kid. You see that girl over there?” Donny asked, showing him a redhead dancing with her friends.
“That’s who you get. You ask her how she’s doing, then if she’d like to dance. Don’t say shit about what you did in school, what you want to be, or what she wants to be. When you get her alone, and you know you’re going to tap it, tap it. Then find out about her. What‘s your name again man? ” Donny spoke.
“Eric.” The boy replied.
“Alright Eric, go get her! She’s waiting!” Donnie shouted as the music started up again.
Eric smiled and stood up. He took a deep breath and made his way to the redhead.
The bartender began to feel alone, and now that the sues chef was talking to the three guys, most likely predators, he thought, he could focus on the young drunk at the karaoke stage.
The young man had sang three songs already, and needed to be removed. “Three times too many. Who the hell’s buying drinks for him?” The bartender asked himself aloud.
“I’m a sues chef at Davie’s Grill.” She said to the ringleader.
His friends nodded and laughed in silent admiration. They knew she was decent, and innocent. A perfect target.
“Wow. You can cook. You should cook me something sometime.” The ringleader spoke.
The sues chef wasn’t sure how to respond, because she wanted to fit in anywhere she could. There were nights when she would talk to the bartender and drink. That would be it. She was 24, and attended a culinary arts college part time. She had it worked out, but she never really deviated from her parent’s rules. She was still a virgin, and cringed at the sight of some television shows where couples met at bars, told sexually suggestive jokes, and fought. It was as if she had a block against it. But now, she couldn’t identify just how drawn in she was.
“Yeah. My mom can cook pretty good.” The ringleader spoke
“Aw… Your mom. Are you a momma’s boy?” She joked.
His friends laughed at him, teasing,
“Aw. You’re out after curfew!” One shouted.
“Better call the police!” Teased the other.
She laughed along with them, putting pressure on the ringleader.
“It’s about your bedtime, so don’t give me shit, Weasel.” He said to one of his friends.
The sues chef joined began laughing, but stopped after noticing Weasel‘s glare as he sat next to the ringleader impatiently. The bartender hopped over the bar after cutting off the music and walked briskly to the stage. He took the microphone away from the boy, who continued to sing “In this Car“. He grabbed him by the ear and pulled him offstage.
“Hey man! You can’t do that!” One of the boy’s friends argued.
“Shut up!” The bartender shouted to the small crowd that were being entertained by the little singing maudlin.
“Let me see your drivers license.” The bartender demanded.
The young man looked at him stupidly, beginning to get nervous.
“Huh?” He asked.
The bartender reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.
“September the third, 1989.” The bartender read aloud, shocked by how young he was.
“You’re underage. A minor.” He said before turning to his friends.
“This can cost me my liquor license. I’m giving all of you five minutes to clear out before I call the police!” The bartender shouted to the group.
With looks of surprise and amusement, they began to scramble, and before five minutes elapsed, had cleared out through the back door.
Eric approached the redhead with a confident smile.
“Hi, how are you?” He asked.
She smiled, then her friends walked away, seeming relieved.
“Oh, just fine.” She replied, blushing slightly.
“What’s your name?” He asked her, beginning to feel himself turning red.
“Amy.” She replied.
After a while, Eric realized how smart this girl was. How she liked to talk about schoolwork instead of dance, how she seemed interested in him. He didn’t have to try. He knew he could score with her.
“Would you like to dance?” He asked.
She smiled, still blushing.
“Sure.” She replied.
The two started to dance to another tune, awkwardly at first, but then in rhythm. She was unaware of just how kinky he would be. She was his first experiment, by doing little things like snapping her panty line to her skin like a whip, caress her backside as she grinded into him, and fondling with her bra strap, snapping it against her skin in the same manner.
“I guess your good at this.” She said, getting carried away.
The friend with the aversion watched them, continuing to drink. He despised his friend, but knew he was comfortably seeded among the lot who barhopped trying to get laid every Saturday. A bunch of idiots they were, he thought. But he couldn’t get out. They had him at a young age. All it took was a little bit of booze and some porno magazines…
The bartender sighed as he watched the sues chef speak with the three. He knew their kind, but wouldn’t dare interfere. He still felt, however, a need to protect her. All the nights she had came and drank, talking to him, a lowly bartender. How she seemed so unaware of the ugliness out there.
“I like that movie. Yeah.” The ringleader lied after listening the Sue chef ramble on about a movie she liked.
The sues chef felt herself becoming attracted to him. She drank her beer, looking on at the three.
“Do you want another beer?” He asked.
“Yeah.” She replied.
“How about a real drink?” He asked.
She thought about it, then agreed with a nod.
The bartender reluctantly handed the ringleader another drink. The sues chef was drunk enough, and now appeared as though she needed to be carried out.
“You want to go see a movie with me and my friend?” Eric asked the redhead.
She wanted more of him, feeling as though she’d now been accepted. She finally found someone who understood her and wanted to appreciate the person she really was.
“Okay.” She replied.
The two walked over to Donny and the other, who met their presence together with little surprise. Justin had already left, and Donny was not surprised to find the look on the redhead’s face, how she seemed victorious. For shame and for shit, he thought.
“Let’s go. This lovely lady wants to see a movie.” Eric said.
“Alright.” Donnie replied.
“Why don’t you two go it alone?” The other asked curiously.
The redhead looked at Eric, who had only one thing in mind: Get laid. Leave these losers behind and head out. So Eric and the girl, who knew her friends wouldn’t miss her, left. That’s what they brought her there for. If she was ever going to be a real woman like them, who knew so much about the real world, she was going to have to meet a real man.
The bartender watched the two head out. He knew that the redhead had come in with friends. It’s out of my control, who cares, he thought. But what about the sues chef? He asked himself. What a screwed up lot they were, these kids. Instead of dwelling on this notion, he returned his attention to the sues chef and the gang of three.
“Wow! I like that too!” She laughed out loud.
The three were crazed with laughter, watching her. The ringleader smiled.
“Well…” He said.
“Well…” She teased.
They laughed.
“I guess it’s time to head out. You want to join me?” The ringleader laughed.
“Ahem.” Weasel cleared his throat.
“I mean, us?” The ringleader asked, his eyes narrowed devilishly.
The sues chef could hardly say no. She hadn’t drank like this before. And the three seemed so interesting to her, but she couldn’t place exactly why.
“Okay.” She slurred.
The bartender grabbed a baseball bat from under the counter. The way the three picked her off the barstool and made their way to the door angered him. She had nobody, and they seemed more than willing to be her guide into some hell they had planned. Just as they approached the exit, the bartender hopped over the counter.
“I’ll break your goddamn heads if you leave here with her!” He shouted at them.
They scattered and made their way out. The sues chef slumped over on a bar stool.
“Are you all right Duffy?” He asked.
She looked around, dazed.
“I never found out… What’s your name again?” She asked distantly, looking at the bartender as though she were lost.
“You can call me daddy.” The bartender replied, feeling damn sick at how vulnerable she’d become.
“Daddy.” She slurred.
He sat her on a chair behind the bar. The karaoke stopped, and the kids began to clear out. The bartender closed the blinds, turned off the television sets, and dimmed the lights. He cut off all the lights on the dance floor once he finished cleaning up and returning to the bar. There was only the task of getting Duffy home left. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. As he turned off the remaining lights and opened the front door, greeted by a cold breeze, he looked around outside. He could only imagine what lay in wait on other nights, for other girls like the sues chef. There were some cars here and there, all blaring music that could be heard blocks away.
“What a bad breed. The whole damn lot.” The bartender grumbled.
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