Post by Jack Owyns on Nov 13, 2014 15:21:34 GMT
CALIFORNIA
November 9th, 2014
Buck’s Bar
SNIFF! SNIFF!
TAP! TAP! TAP!
SNIFF!
Jack raised his head, wiped his nose and stared into the bathroom mirror. He turned on the faucet, splashed cold water over his face, and then stood there with a desolate expression, watching his reflection as the water trickled down his face. The door opened, snapping Jack back to reality as music roared into the bathroom. He straightened up, turned off the faucet, and exited the bathroom to go back into the bar.
The bar was bumping for a Sunday night. Filled with bikers, whores, and close by locals. Jack scouted the bar before taking a seat on a bar stool.
“A double whiskey, no ice.” Jack signalled the bartender.
Jack turned his attention to the television, where the Arizona Cardinals were facing the St. Louis Rams in Glendale. The bartender passed Jack his drink, and Jack drank the entire drink before he could turn away. He slammed the glass down and passed it back to the bartender.
“Another.”
The bartender nodded grabbing the glass.
Jack went back to watching the football game when a finger touched the back of his neck and gently ran from his neck to near his crotch. Jack turned and looked, a women in her late 30s stood there with a smile.
“Hey handsome, you look like you need someone to cheer you up,” she said, taking her hand away from his crotch and gently brushed it against his cheek.
The bartender brought Jack another drink, which he grabbed and slammed back, holding it out for the bartender to get him another. The woman’s hand was still gently rubbing his cheek.
“What do you say, hon—AH!”
Jack grabbed her by the wrist, putting much effort into the squeeze.
“Fuck off.” He tossed her hand away as a look of terror arrived on her face.
“Hey!”
“Did you see that?”
“That motherfucker just hurt Lucy!”
A chorus of voices erupted behind him as three men approached Jack with their fists already in the air. Jack didn’t move except to take his next drink, finish it, and again pass it back to the bartender, who didn’t like the looks of where this might be going.
“WHOA, just WHOA now… let’s be rational here; think this over,” A man pleaded behind Jack to his three new friends. “He’s… he’s going through… a rough patch, and he probably didn’t mean to hu—“
“Fuck you, Oddball… I’m not going through no rough patch, and… I really did mean to fuckin’ hurt her.” He tossed back his drink, keeping the glass in his hand as he got up off the barstool and turned to face all four.
Oddball just shook his head.
“Fuck you,” he said, pointing at a scrawny young guy.
“Fuck you,” he said, pointing at a drunk who could barely stand.
“And… FUCK YOU!” He yelled as he smashed his glass over the biggest guy's head.
The brawl began.
CALIFORNIA
November 9th, 2014
Buck’s Bar
Jack was sitting on the front steps of Buck’s bar. The knuckles on both his hands were busted wide open, his T-shirt soaked in blood, blood which appeared not to be Jack’s as his face was relatively untouched. He took a sip from the 2-6 of whiskey he had taken from the bar. Oddball stood in front of him, looking shocked.
“I just don’t even know what to say Jack. That was…”
“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”
“Awesome.” Oddball snagged the bottle from Jack’s hand and had a drink. “Never, EVER, have I seen somebody's teeth shatter like that; it was like all POOF! God, Oh my God. Did you see when I nailed that person in the back of the head with that barstool? Dropped him with ONE SHOT.”
He mimicked the motion with his hands, spilling whiskey all over himself.
“I think HER name was Lucy,” Jack said, reaching out and taking back his bottle.
“Meh.” Oddball waved it off.
Jack guzzled down more whiskey.
“So about Radek… Did you find out anything?”
“Oh yes, yes I did. I even planned a play day for you two. Tomorrow.“
“What?” interrupted Jack.
“I arranged a play day, tomorrow. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Fuck NO!” Jack jumped to his feet. “I didn’t want anything to fuckin’ do with him. All I told you to do was find out if he WAS released or not for fucks sake. That’s it; you fuckin’ moron.”
“WELL, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN CLEARER THEN! God, do you think I read minds now. Come on Jack.”
Jack fired a stiff right, connecting right below the bridge of Oddball’s nose.
“I WAS fuckin´ clear. Hey Oddball, is Radek out, or isn’t he? Not, hey Oddball, can you book a FUCKIN’ PLAY DATE WITH RADEK! SHIT, you’re fuckin’ WORTHLESS!”
Oddball sat on his ass in the dirt, with his hand cupping his now bloody nose.
“Worthless…? Worthless…? No-no-no, un-uh… If I, was so worthless, then tell me Jack, how did I get you signed on with MetroPro wrestling, huh? Tell me that. Would a worthless man, get you a job? I don’t think so.”
Jack kicked Oddball repeatedly in the side of the leg.
“MetroPRO, I’ve never even fuckin’ heard of it. And it don’t change the fact that NOW I have to go and meet Radek,” Jack said, stopping with the kicks.
“Its… well… Hey, remember that guy, you and your buddy… Dakota Smith. Beat up at that training facility…. God, what was his name.”
“Mort Goodman,” Jack responded, somewhat confused.
“That’s right! Mort Goodman… well, he is your new BOSS! Awesome right?”
Jack looked flabbergasted.
“Right?” Oddball questioned.
“You really are a fuckin’ moron, you know that.” Jack polished off the bottle, and then smashed it inches away from Oddball.
Jack dug into his pocket to claim his car keys as he approached his car.
“Where are you going?”
“Where the fuck do you think.” Jack unlocked his door. “To meet… fuckin’ Radek. Then figure out… what the fuck I will do about MetroPRO.”
Oddball stood up and quickly hurried for the car.
“Wait for me!”
Oddball paused, before getting in. "Hey, should I drive."
Jack didn't respond.
