"you wanna take this back there sair?" i called her sair for short, you know sarah...sair. cute, yeah..i fucking know. shut up.
"not right now, i want to hang out for a little while." she said. what the fuck, i thought. this is kind of bullshit. is she playing me? seriously, what the hell?
"cool." i said. i sat beside her and turned up the stereo, grabbed my whiskey and took a gulp. it was perfect, just the right temperature and watered down just right. i took another quick drink and stood up. i grabbed her hand to get her to pull her up to dance with me.
"no thanks, i don't dance." she said.
"you haven't had enough to drink." i said as i poured her some more whiskey while shaking my ass. she waved at me to stop. what the fuck now? i thought.
"i'm good and drunk, just relax." she said. i sat back down. i grabbed my guitar and started to strum it with my finger lightly. she turned on the tv, the damned infomercial for psychic friends network was on. i looked over at don. he was still playing his game with roach, they must have had half of that bottle gone. shit, i thought. i should go bounce his fucking head off of the dinner table. i pictured it. i walked over and grabbed him by his boil ridden neck and turned his head around at the tv. the jamaican lady was on there.
"do you remember this fucker?" i would say.
"gooch, let me go." he would say through my hands mashed against his face. i would bust a forearm across his face and he would go down. roach would get up and get in between us. don would do nothing. what a fucking pussy he is. he wouldn't fight back. i always wanted him to. i always wanted him to grow a set of nuts and stand the fuck up for himself. he wouldn't. he never would.
i took a drag off of my cigarette and looked back down at my guitar. i loved that thing. it was probably my single most favorite thing in the whole world. all beat to shit, but i beat it into that condition and i knew where every scar came from. i strummed it and hummed a tune i had been working on.
"whatcha playin captain?" said sarah.
"nothing..well something but nothing yet." i said.
"did you write it?"
"well kind of, they all tend to write themselves but i guess i had something to do with it."
"sounds pretty."
"yeah, pretty was what i was going for. i like pretty, it rhymes with shitty."
"take a compliment man, shit." she said. she just called me man. so much for turning that out tonight. ruined. what do i care? i knew it was best anyhow. i sabotage everything good anyway.
"not right now, i want to hang out for a little while." she said. what the fuck, i thought. this is kind of bullshit. is she playing me? seriously, what the hell?
"cool." i said. i sat beside her and turned up the stereo, grabbed my whiskey and took a gulp. it was perfect, just the right temperature and watered down just right. i took another quick drink and stood up. i grabbed her hand to get her to pull her up to dance with me.
"no thanks, i don't dance." she said.
"you haven't had enough to drink." i said as i poured her some more whiskey while shaking my ass. she waved at me to stop. what the fuck now? i thought.
"i'm good and drunk, just relax." she said. i sat back down. i grabbed my guitar and started to strum it with my finger lightly. she turned on the tv, the damned infomercial for psychic friends network was on. i looked over at don. he was still playing his game with roach, they must have had half of that bottle gone. shit, i thought. i should go bounce his fucking head off of the dinner table. i pictured it. i walked over and grabbed him by his boil ridden neck and turned his head around at the tv. the jamaican lady was on there.
"do you remember this fucker?" i would say.
"gooch, let me go." he would say through my hands mashed against his face. i would bust a forearm across his face and he would go down. roach would get up and get in between us. don would do nothing. what a fucking pussy he is. he wouldn't fight back. i always wanted him to. i always wanted him to grow a set of nuts and stand the fuck up for himself. he wouldn't. he never would.
i took a drag off of my cigarette and looked back down at my guitar. i loved that thing. it was probably my single most favorite thing in the whole world. all beat to shit, but i beat it into that condition and i knew where every scar came from. i strummed it and hummed a tune i had been working on.
"whatcha playin captain?" said sarah.
"nothing..well something but nothing yet." i said.
"did you write it?"
"well kind of, they all tend to write themselves but i guess i had something to do with it."
"sounds pretty."
"yeah, pretty was what i was going for. i like pretty, it rhymes with shitty."
"take a compliment man, shit." she said. she just called me man. so much for turning that out tonight. ruined. what do i care? i knew it was best anyhow. i sabotage everything good anyway.
