i woke up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous. it felt like my stomach was on fire. i get off the couch and shuffle to the restroom as fast as i could. i unload everything in my stomach, in what feels like a full bottle of tobasco out of my throat, and into the toilet. after about 30 seconds,im empty, and the pain subsides. im used to these late night attacks. i clean myself up and check the time. 4am. my body didnt miss its appointment with the toilet for the 3rd night in a row. i head back to the couch and fall asleep. there was a bounty on my head, and in a few hours, i needed to skip town.
prior to my late night puke fest, i had visited a local bar here in town. i was a regular at this place, and every night i would meet up with an old friend from Tennessee. his name was Jack Daniels, and we got along really well. i moped around that place for about 3hrs, or 5 years, depending on how you want to count it. no one ever bothered me, and i paid no mind to anyone else. it had that authentic bar feel, old and worn out, just like me. the mens restroom was missing a door so were all the stalls. the womens restroom was just as bad. it was a one story property with a welcoming "drink till you drop" neon light on the outside. sometimes i took them up on that offer, depending on my mood and how much cash i had that day. it all went to hell that night Richie showed up.
i was ordering my usual round of Jack and ice when 3 punk kids showed up. they were your typical idiot adults. all of them were light skinned hispanics and barely old enough to even step foot inside a liquor store. i saw them walk in out of the corner of my eye. they looked they were ready to go out to the club, or they may have come back from church, i never asked. each one of them had that wannabe-Calvin-Klein-model hairstyle that pissed me off. the one in the middle was apparently a kid named Richie, who had come all the way from Phoenix, arizona to hang out with his cousins for the weekend. i ask the bartender for my tab and pay it in full, leaving an extra 5 buck tip as a thank you for supporting my drinking habit. i walk towards the door right when Richie bumps into me like he's some big shit. in a slight south american accent he tells me:
"watch where your going fucker!"
i kept on walking, ignoring him and half drunk.
"hey you piece of shit im talking to you!"
im almost to the door, home free, when suddenly i feel something cold on the back of my head. the little bitch pulled a gun on me.
"yeah! now that i have a gun to your head you fucking listen, puto!"
he guides me back to my seat at the bar. since i was sitting down i ordered another round. fuck it, if i die here, might as well enjoy my last few moments on earth.
Richie looked infuriated.
"Mother fucker you think you can just bump into me and not say sorry!? you're dead wrong asshole! now look at me and say your sorry!"
His cousins looked liked monkeys imitating the same gestures he made. i found it amusing. i took a big gulp of my drink with a gun still pointed at me when suddenly a woman who was drinking alone as well, came up and started talking shit to them.
she said to them, " you fucking pussy ass bitches! why dont you fight like men?! you wave that gun around like your some badass when you know your just a little punk ass chump!"
i got to admit, she did have some balls.
they continued to argue like cat and dog, up until the point Richie tells her,
" shut the fuck up you stupid bitch!" and he pistol whips her across the face. she lets out a horrible scream, i lose it.
in a blur of motions that looked like something out of an old Steven Seagal movie, i felt time slow down. i pull out my 1911 and waste Richie right then and there. 3 shots to the chest at point blank range. i made sure he was dead.
his cousins ran off faster than my bullets, and they disappeared into the night. i dont know why i did it, but i guess i never liked seeing a woman get hurt. at that moment i knew i had outstayed my welcome at that bar, and it was time for me to leave.
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