What a drag it is getting old…
I’m somewhere in the middle of a dream, chasing this girl across a field of grass, reaching out my hand to touch her, when I’m woken by a pounding on my door.
Rubbing my eyes, it’s only eight, I need to learn to stop drinking in the afternoon. Again a pounding, “HOLD ON!”, shuffling my hands under the covers to find a pair of jeans. I rolled out of bed, eyes sore with sleep, grabbing the beer from my nightstand, stumbling down the stairs.
Opening the door, Marc pushes his way in past me, “Did I wake you?”, he goes into the kitchen and I can hear him pulling a beer from the fridge, “were you up all night with that blonde chick again?”, he talks with a chuckle in his voice.
It takes me a moment to process what he’s talking about as I shut the door, “No.. she stayed until the end of the movie, said she had class in the morning”, I lied. Jessica most definitely stayed all night, why else would I be sore?
“We’re going out tonight”, using his lighter to open the bottle, “you always get the blondes, it’s my turn”.
“Maybe it’s cause you spent the whole night hitting on guys”
Throwing the bottle cap towards my face, “Fuck you”, with a laugh, “He was hitting on me!”
He most definitely was, as is the price you pay for meeting girls in gay clubs. “Alright, we’ll go out again tonight, but you’re driving this time”, an audible groan from across the kitchen, “just let me grab a clean shirt”.
The night starts with a crash, in between yelling at me for lighting up a joint in his car, Marc runs over a recycling bin backing out of the driveway. We listen to the Rolling Stones on the way to the bar, arguing about how many drummers they’ve gone through, smoking half a pack of cigarettes on the way.
We park a few blocks from the bar, interrupted midway arguing with a homeless man in the street begging for change, “Obama’s President now, what else do you want?!”, my friends are right, I can be a huge dick sometimes.
We managed to find a table, making assholes out of ourselves ordering drinks from the waitress, and sat in anticipation of the girls. Marc was going on about his new watch, when this blonde slides in next to him at the table, “is this seat taken?”, we’re both staring at her bright red lipstick.
Marc freezes momentarily, and I step in to help him out, “No, actually it’s my friends birthday today”
He shoots me a nod of approval, “I think that means you owe me a drink”
I don’t know why that trick works every time, they never ask for proof, they just smile and pull their shoulders back so we can stare at their tits. She smiles, and within minutes the three of us are laughing at dirty jokes, “Why do all the chicks dig Jesus?”, holding my arms out, “Because he was hung like this!”
She spills her shot as a laugh bursts from her mouth, red liquor goes everywhere, and she frantically tries to clean it up with a napkin, her hands finding their way into Marc’s lap. He shoots me a grin, as she pulls him out of his seat, “Let me help you clean that up”.
I don’t think he’s realized she’s a hooker yet, and I finish my drink quickly, leaving a 20 on the table, as I wait for them to exit the bathroom together. A few minutes pass, so I order another drink, and another, and another. My God, how long have they been in there? The bar is starting to pick up a crowd by now, and with liquor comes a line of people waiting to use the restroom.
I pulled out my phone, what’s taking so long, and as I press the send key my attention is diverted by the sounds of breaking glass. Liquor and the urge to pee should never be combined, lifting my eyes to see a group of angry jock types pounding on the bathroom door, “HEY, OPEN UP”.
I’ll give him credit, she must be good for them to be in there this long, but I found it in our best interest to get him out of there before things got really nasty. I got up from my seat, and walked towards the bathroom, put my hand up to knock on the door, when I felt a hand grab my shoulder.
Pulling me back around, “THERE’S A LINE”, one of the jock types with red anger in face.
“My buddy’s in there, I’m just…”, a fist comes into sight and I throw myself to the right avoiding the blow, when behind me there’s a loud crash.
I turn my head in time to catch sight of Marc pushing himself out of the bathroom door, hands squeezing his crotch, “SHE FUCKING BIT ME”.
Ignoring the instinct to burst into laughter, I pull him by the arm through the crowd, he’s screaming profanities waving his fist behind us, out of the bar into the street, “She bit you?”
“THAT WHORE BIT ME”
The ride home was silent, I tried turning the radio on, but he swatted my hand back and turned the stereo off.
We pulled up to my house, stepping out of the car, I spoke through the open window, “Well you got your blonde”. He sped off without a word.