August, 1981, Tampa
“There’s going to be a time..”
The meaty sound of a fist striking flesh.
“…when you’ll thank me for this..”
“…and on that day…”
Thud-Thud. Two strikes in quick succession, and the rattle of chains.
“…you’re gonna look back on this one…”
The sound of ragged gasps, broken things, almost pants really - like a terrified animal that’s been beaten so often a kick is a hug.
“What?” Ray’s voice was incredulous, hand raised high to strike another blow. “What did you just say to me?”
Felicia sobbed, a broken noise from a broken girl. The flesh around her right eye was already swelling, and would be a royal shiner in an hour or so.
“Did I stutter?” I asked, reasonably.
I stood in the open doorway to the dressing room and met Ray’s stare, arms folded across my chest. A thin man in a gray suit. Nobody.
“No.” Ray replied, straightening and turning to face me. Behind him, Brandy and Alotta sat frozen, mouths hanging open as they watched the crazy person in the door signing a ticket to a world-class beating. “No man, you didn’t stutter. But now I’m gonna have to hurt you.”
Here's hoping the day brings you good times with good friends. Hugs to you, bruv...
That today is K.L's Birthday!!! Happy Birthday, Phil. This place would NOT be the same without you lovely lady.
"...And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent,
called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole
world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels
were cast out with him."
Mr. Hendricks, a jovial man of some fifty years, with a walrus mustache and a shape like a bowling pin, leaned back in his leather executive chair and squinted across his desk at the much younger man seated across from him. Where Mr. Hendricks favored tweeds and houndstooth and leather patches at the elbows, the younger man preferred reds and blacks and gray the color of smoke. Both wore suits: well cut, tailored (obviously), and made of materials to match their aforementioned predilections and color palettes.
Time to wish China a much deserved Happy Birthday!
(insert songs, gyrating half-nekid mens, birthday cake, money, party hats, a bajillion trillion dollars to some dog shelter somewhere, etc. here...)
Everyone wish Richard a very happy day - or Soldier Boy will show up drunk at your house at 3:00 am, a hooker in tow, to crash on your couch.
Who are you?
Who am I?
Wind in wings
Two angels falling
"You ain't gotta do this," Marty said, holding a blood-soaked t-shirt in one trembling hand. The young man had been beaten, rolled for the five dollars and change he had in his pocket and left in an ally to... to do whatever homeless people did whenever they got the shit beat out of them.
Die. Get better and crawl back below. Whatever. It happened more frequently now. No one knew why.
"Seriously," Marty breathed, leaning back against a well-used pillow and closing his eyes. "You don't. It ain't worth it."
"It is," replied his companion. "They'll learn."
Great expectations, everybody's watching you
People you meet, they all seem to know you
Even your old friends treat you like you're something new
Johnny come lately, the new kid in town
Everybody loves you, so don't let them down"