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1 The Cleveland Indians have been victorious in back-to-back games just once this season, winning April 15 and 16 in Kansas City. The two wins clinched the only best-of series claimed by the Tribe in 2009. Sad.

1

The Cleveland Indians have been victorious in back-to-back games just once this season, winning April 15 and 16 in Kansas City. The two wins clinched the only best-of series claimed by the Tribe in 2009. Sad.

Short Stories no one likes: Liquor Shits

Monday, May 4, 2009 11:49 PM

My sister and I were adopted by a religious woman back in 1983. She dated a guy named Marty for a while before he headed out to Washington State, which is also where I ended up. He taught us how to say 'please' and 'thank you' and how to play poker before the frat boys made it big back in 2003. The poker lessons didn't do me much good, but Jen Bug learned the hustle and runs an after-hours joint out in Dayton and makes big bucks. The etiquette lessons did eventually come in handy when I showed up at JB's club unannounced after a night of binge drinking and a cab ride form Springfield that the club had to pay for. The negroes at the door weren't happy and eventually thought I was undercover ATF, but that is a story for another day.

Jane owned a biker bar in Xenia until the fall of '05. Us kids knew she had "helped out" at the place, but we had no idea Mom actually owned the joint until yesterday, when the cook at the bar who made us fruit plates after school for years came to the funeral and told us Mom had left it to him. He was very happy, yet sorry that we didn't know Mom's story, which is also for another day. He said Jane didn't want us hanging around the bar all the time, but if we really wanted the joint, we could buy it at a price we thought was fair. Neither of us were interested. (For what it's worth, I got eighty grand and some vintage vinyl records. It's awesome and more than I deserve. JB got Mom's modest Cape Cod in west Dayton and two million, most of it in cash. The most of it--including my share--was handed over to Jen in three cardboard boxes in the parking lot of an I-70 Flying J, and how the two biker guys held on to it is beyond me. JB, by the way, deserved everything she got. You know, just in case you were wondering why I didn't get as much.)

I bring this up because I have the liquor shits, I'm a complete mess, and I'll be dead in about two minutes. Jane always warned us that booze was hell on the insides, and overindulgence would make you shit yourself, and that we shouldn't drink. I'm back home in Spokane now, a day removed from the funeral and outside of one of the few local shitholes I've never set foot in. I was asked to leave an hour ago, but the pint of Jager I keep in my bag for times like this has done the trick while I try to find a cabbie still willing to pick me up. They're hard to find now, in case you don't know me. I've robbed two of 'em, including a mean sonofabitch who wouldn't drive me around for a whore one night. Got away with it both times, though, thanks to the sorry Spokane County Prosecutor.

Anyhow, I shit my pants before I could call for the tab or a cab, but it isn't a big deal; they were gonna throw me out anyway. Coke and beer and liquor on an empty stomach gives a man the shits, so what the fuck? The big deal is the fact that someone just cut my throat, and as I turn around I can see it's the old bar fly who must've smelled the money no one else knew was in my dirty army bag. As things fade out, I can see her husband pulling up in his taxi to pick her up. I've seen them around. He's one of the cabbies that won't pick me up anymore and she's the old drunk I see in all the other shithole taverns around here. She just got the drop on me while I fiddled around with my phone and cigarettes, and taught me that I shouldn't be drinking in bars every night, or screwing around with taxi drivers, or carrying eighty thousand dollars around the south side of Spokane.

I'm really cold, and maybe a little surpised that it took so long for something like this to happen.

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Sandpaper Handjob: One fist in the gold

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Short Stories no one likes: Liquor Shits

Monday, May 4, 2009 11:49 PM

Sandpaper Handjob:
One fist in the gold