random. fight. bar. signs.
It’s good to have that power to destroy the world or at least someone’s jaw. The strength in Kian’s punch simply is unmeasurable to his opponent. Well, an opponent is a strong word. The poor shmuck who’s getting the beating of his life is an innocent bystander who mindlessly bumped into Kian’s girlfriend, Shianne. Shianne, the pin-up girl of Kian’s dreams, tall and chipper with classic-curl bob-cut hair, whether a true blond or not, but a blond.
The thrill Kian gets out of contacting his fist with someone’s flesh reenergizes Kian’s core. Like a battery charged with lack of consequences and ferocity and Shianne cannot hold her enthusiasm. She likes her men brute, barbaric, and build like a refrigerator. Wide and strong shoulders. Someone who can whisk her off her feet with one simple whoosh. And for that matter, she’s standing nearby cheering her man on with claps and hoots.
Chuck watches from the stool at the other end of the room, calculating how quickly he could take down the beast causing all that mayhem. After all, Chuck himself misses the punishment on his body he endured for twenty-plus years as a rugby player. But he averts from the ruckus and chugs the last of his beer. It’s best, he thinks not to get into another brawl and get another misdemeanor. His wife awaits him at home after all in one piece and without any black eyes or bloody lips. She has had enough of bailing him out.
Bethenny’s steady hands continue to carry another platter of drinks to the tables. Serving the customers is her priority. She figures that the hounds at the door will deal with the mess disrupting the evening. Her feet hurt and her mouth is tired of ejecting another chain of witty comebacks, trying her best to roll with the punches and up-the-ante with her wisecracks. Her brain has become a roller-coaster, spinning words and their order.
Jonathan only came in on a dare in his college graduation cap and gown, bright blue, for the rams, the mascot of the school. But his endeavors are short-lived as his face gets jammed between a leather sleeve and a stein. Drink, my buddy! Somebody shouts and Jonathan new to the experience darts out with the metaphorical dust following his heal.
Sabetha with a green marker in her hand tries to capture the last image of her nightmare on paper as the hoots disrupt her momentum. Boozed and obsessed, she looks up to briefly identify the source of the noise and returns to her feverish drawing. She’s considered somewhat a regular at this shithole as the many choices of liquor seem to quench her creative thirst. And this place provides a taste for every desire. She licks her hand for the salty aftertaste and proceeds to spit onto her paper, then smudges the ink across. A blob that turns into fading gunpowder.
I love you. I love you. The words come from afar but manage to pierce through the hustle. Kian shoves one of the goons off him and grabs onto Shianne’s hand, pulling her into his arms. The pucker lasts a minute or so before they are broken apart and shoved out the door. Laughter follows them.
The night is cold as the half moon brightens the wavering hand of the drunk at the post where the muzzled and chained man’s-best-friend sleeps patiently. Martin wrestles in his car, struggling to find a comfortable spot to set his head on the pillow. It’s been a long day and tomorrow the early shift starts at five. Not much to sleep off his medicine and headache but Martin will try.
Kian squeezes Shianne’s ass and pulls her to his mouth.
EGGSHELLS sign keeps on flickering without any specific pattern as if someone put the letters in a rattle and just had a go at it. They blink in red and yellow bright. The frenzy outside measures the frenzy of the inside that occurs nightly. The police cruise’s lights flash blue and white. The handcuffs jiggle. Kian has no regrets. It’s his mission to pave his fists any occasion he gets. The anger management classes didn’t help. He does it for his woman. The caveman that he is.
© Jacob Greb — 2022
return to Story Teller