26. Wrong Way
Author’s note: I wrote this as part of the writing games I host once a month and definitely got a laugh from what I had produced. It’s a bit of a weird one and may require you to be a bit
tipsy to understand why the main character behaves the way he does.
***
He could still taste the bitter dregs of his last beer. He wanted more. He should have put that bastard in crutches, down. No one speaks to him like that.
Too drunk to have another drink! Yeah right. The guy wouldn’t know his asshole from a good beer. He kicked the tyre of the nearest car; a white utility with black marks down the side showing where it had been sideswiped. Serves him right. He kicked the metal, but his black boot didn’t make a discernible mark on the dented panels.
Gary turned in a circle to look out over the semi-vacant car park, then had to hold onto the utility to get his balance again.
Nothing else open. No people. No cars. Just houses.
Where in the good name of baby Jesus were all the stinking bars?
He hadn’t seen a cab for the last 20 minutes. Had they gone on strike or what? Gary stumbled into the side of a Honda, then punched the side mirror to teach it to not get in his way.
He looked up again and around the carpark. It felt like he had been walking around the place forever. And it smelled like asshole. He blinked back at the bar and his mind spun. Was that another bar or did he come from there?
Thoughts of being inside, nice and warm, and sipping on another drink or five, made him concentrate on working out how to make such a scene become a reality again. Like a spinning lighthouse he went from idea to idea, brushing each aside as he thought of them.
He should have punched that guy’s face when he told him to get out.
He now realised he needed to piss.
A street light buzzed overhead. Moths and other bugs darted about, confused over a lone light in the dark. The splatter of urine sung out from the concrete car park and sprayed down his trouser leg.
“Stupid piss. Go where I tell you.”
He lifted his aim and made hills of urine across the red panels of the Honda.
“What the... in all the hell whores, what you doing to my car!”
Gary heard someone yell, but it may as well have been from over the other side of the road, in a house and behind three walls, for how much he heard and understood him. He turned his head to the sound, and his body followed. The splatter of his piss went down in volume and the guys yelling went up to eleven. Gary kept turning and twisted his legs around, then fell against the car he had been urinating on and slid across in the urine into the side mirror again. This time stopping him from falling to the ground. Must have learned its lesson, he decided.
He turned his attention back to the guy walking towards him. Was there two guys or one over there? He closed one eye and squinted. Okay, just one.
“Me?” Gary said, believing he had used a sober tone.
“You lousy, filthy piss-head. Pull up your pants and cover your helmet. Then I’m gonna rip your stupid head off.”
Gary thought for a moment. It may have taken a second, but it felt like he had spent half the night deciding on what to do, but he did decide then that he was too drunk to fight. He hadn’t actually ever fought anyone in his life and he guessed now wasn’t the time to start. Also, this guy stood a head taller and definitely a lot wider.
“Get stuffed ya tub of crap,” Gary yelled.
An idea came to mind. Probably his only good one for the night. If this guy was that fat, he would never be able to chase him down if he ran away. He grunted at his brilliant idea and began a long mumbled laugh.
He didn’t bother zipping up, although he had finished his piss, so everything would be okay down there for now. He didn’t have a big dick anyway so it barely flopped about in the brisk air. He could hear his own footsteps but not anyone else’s. And without any cars around or any people, he could tell the guy had decided not to follow him. Slow bugger. He probably didn’t even get out of the carpark.
Gary slowed and looked back down the road. Nothing. The street stayed dead and dark. Each silent tall skinny house stared out across to the other side or at him, dim-witted and curtains drawn.
Frost crept across windshields and bonnet’s of the parked cars in a white sheen. He shivered. He looked down to see he was still out. He zipped up, almost forgetting to pop himself back in for a moment, but did so just as he closed in on the skin. He felt a little warmer without the breeze down below. He still needed to find another bar and there wasn’t anything he could remember nearby. He would need a ride.
Tyres screeched from somewhere.
Probably eons away.
He could drive. He drove better drunk anyway. He could find an unlocked car to borrow, then leave a note and let them know where he left the car. No one could blame him, and surely the owners wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t go that far anyway.
An engine roared, more squealing tyres. He put his hands on hips and looked around for the noisy asshole waking up the good people sleeping in this nice neighbourhood. Lights spun sideways then back to the middle of the road, finally settling on him. He had just peed, but now he needed to pee again. He squinted and put up his hand to block the light. The lights shone to the left, then right, like the eyes of a drunk. He tried to move, but his legs wouldn’t work. He looked across the road then back down the street for someone to help.
The car ground up against parked cars on one side of the road, then the other. The car skidded around and the engine revved harder. It turned in a spin. Then crashed sideways into the cars on the side and came to a sudden halt.
Gary stared. His mouth opening and closing in half assembled words. His mouth dry. He really needed a beer now. And a pee. His feet kept their place on the ground like his shoes had claws. Maybe if he just let a little out. His pant’s leg warmed for a moment and he sighed, forgetting about the car.
The engine stopped making noises. A flame burst from the bonnet. Gary stared again at the car and his legs warmed further. His right foot felt real warm now too. Fire erupted from the bonnet and spread down the panels and to the ground. He stepped backward. His feet finally giving him control.
A big guy jumped out of the car and ran toward him, screaming, his hair and jacket on fire. The smell a mix of burnt chicken soup and sweaty socks.
Gary didn’t know what to say or do when the guy ran past. He held up his hand to signal him and maybe help him, but he kept running. Gary continued standing there with his hand up like a shark fin and stared after the guy, still on fire, until he was out of his sight.
Moments passed and his eyes drooped. The car hadn’t exploded. Instead the fire went out with a short fizzle and the street turned dark again. The smell of cooking food made him hungry. He could do with a chicken souvlaki about now.
He walked to the car and got in. It wouldn’t start. He hadn’t expected it to. He let his eyes close. Maybe if he just napped a moment he could think clearer and work out what to do next.
