FINAL!
Stuck With Him
I walked into the bar on that cool spring evening. It was a Thursday night, not a lot of people were there. Just some regulars sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender, at least I would guess they were regulars. I never come here so I wouldn’t know, but the way they were talking to the bartender made me think that this was normal everyday thing for them. I laughed at them to myself, this kind of life must really suck. I sat down at a table, alone. Slouched down and sighed. Without the desire to, I began to slowly drain into my thoughts. Catching myself, I my head, trying to shake the thoughts from my mind, and wondered where the person who would be waiting on me was. I turned to look at the skinny waitress, all dolled up with bright make up and skimpier version of the uniform everyone else in the place had. I figured she had fixed it this way herself. She was bent over at the other table next to me, flirting with the sleek business man seated there. “A little help here?” I asked, annoyed. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the most pleasant person to be around at times.
She huffed and came over, popping her gum as she did so. “What would you like, sir?” She asked in a way that made it seem like I was inconveniencing her.
“A little bit of hospitality…” I said under my breath.
“We don’t serve that here.” She said, I guess I didn’t say it quite so under my breath.
“Just give me some scotch on the rocks.” I huffed and turned to reach into my pocket to pull out my cell phone. I hadn’t missed any calls. Not like I cared. I looked up again to see if the waitress had even gone to put in my order. Figuring by this point she was going to spit in it anyway. I groaned and slumped further in my seat.
I heard at another table some kind of commotion, it had everyone’s attention in the small bar. I sat up a bit and turned in my seat to see what was going on. An old man, dressed in a white suit, looking as if he didn’t belong in this grub of a place, was looking at my spit-in-the-cup skimpy waitress. She was giving him the same annoyed look she had given me, all of her weight on one hip, tapping her high heeled foot.
“Look, old Geyser. I don’t get paid if you don’t pay me. So I need you to find some way to get me the money.” She said with another pop of her pink gum.
I felt a bit of glee inside me at this scene for two reasons, I liked that the women’s wrath would now be turned on another (maybe two spit-ins tonight?) and that the wench of a waitress might be screwed out of her tip and pay.
I turned back in my seat when I noticed that my salt and pepper shakers were shaking. The rumble also transferred to my seat. I looked up to see the glasses on the shelf begin to vibrate and bounced off their high sitting, falling to the ground with a deafening crash. A girl screamed and that seemed to be what broke the silent confused look that encompassed every face in the bar. The next moment was pure hysteria. We all realized it was an earthquake. I joined in the hysteria, getting up from my table and trying to make my way towards the door. I worked my way towards wall, deciding I might be able to push my way through better there. I never saw the large bottle of whiskey fall on top of my head.
When I came to, it was quiet, with the exception of the cackling of the lighting system above them. It was dark; I gave a moan, instantly feeling the pain in my head. My eyes slowly adjusted what they could to the little lighting and I noticed someone beside me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I realized it was the old man who was getting chewed out by my waitress before. I felt woozy, I wondered if I had a concussion. I moved my hand around the ground of where I was seated to feel the sharp jab of broken glass, figuring that was what had done me in. The old man didn’t respond to my question.
“What the hell am I doing here…” I said with a sigh, laying my painful head back against the wall. I reached my hand up to feel around my head, searching for any open wounds or blood. I felt a knot about the size of an egg on my head. I looked around the room, the best I could. It was dark out, so there was very little chance of seeing anything that way. From the quick jolts of light from the electricity cracking through the broken wires I was able to get a good feeling of what the devastated room looked like.
“These have been the worst fireworks I’ve ever seen! Back in my day… we’d… we’d… light our own… and I lost… my…” The old man beside me finally spoke, and wouldn’t it be my luck. He was crazy. “Who are you?!” he yelled at me accusingly, like he just now realized I was seated next to him.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.” I spat. I didn’t have time to deal with something like that.
I looked again across the room, the place was covered in broken glass, debris and the structure wasn’t doing so well. It seemed some of the roof had caved in on the far side, where the exit was. It didn’t look like there was much of an exit left. The old man next to me was playing with the debris, building it up into a little debris mini tower.
“Crazy old Cook.” I said to him, but felt more like I was talking to a dog, like whatever I said was pointless and foreign to the man. This infuriated me, the fact that the only person who may be able to help me in this place was mentally crazy. The man then gave a hiccup and I could smell the scent of cheap alcohol on his breath. And he was drunk. “Why the HELL am I stuck with someone like you!” I, without thinking, kicked out my leg, destroying the structure he had begun building. The rush of blood to my aching head was the only reason I regretted doing it. He turned to look at me with wide eyes and I felt like he was going to cry. This stupid grown man, why was he even alone in this place?
I reached into my pocket again, feeling for my cell phone and pulling it out. Flipped it open, to see there was no service. I wondered what was going on outside of the small bar. I wondered if she was alright. She is Andrea. My girlfriend of two years, at least up until today. Today she found out about Mary… and Becky. I think she kind of knows about Sarah too. I knew it was wrong. But I came to a point where I had to make sure there was nothing else out there in life for me. Being tied down to one person is great and all, I think, but I needed to make sure. They weren’t serious and it wasn’t like I had sex with them. Just a few harmless dates and maybe a few too many kisses behind the waiters back.
I sighed; I missed her so much now. But it was her own damn fault. She is the one that didn’t understand when I explained it all to her, granted this was after she found out about the other women. I left our place in an angered rage and came here, and now I might end up dying in this place. “It’s such a nice day. Not too sunny, not to hot. Though I do wish the fog would clear up a bit.” The old man said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I replied with a huff, deciding to try humoring the man, realizing I wasn’t getting far doing anything else. “Do you have a name?”
“Who’s asking?!” He barked at me quickly. Not the right approach obviously, I thought.
I figured if anything was going to happen, I was going to have to do it on my own. I pushed myself up the wall with a heave, feeling little pain and used the wall to balance myself. He wobbled, feeling faint from the blood rush and moved where I could around the room seeing if there was any sign of anything hopeful. Surly there was going to be a fire department coming to look for people left in the building. Something had to be coming to save them. Someone had to have seen his incident with the bottle. Would Andrea even call?
What about her? What if something happened back at her place? It was only 5 blocks away, I was almost positive own place would have been affected. Was she alright? I pulled out my cell phone yet again, telling myself it wasn’t to check for a call or something from Andrea, but just to see if there was any service. There was still nothing. I angrily snapped if shut and hurled it down, not caring if it broke. It landed, but didn’t break, just slid across the tile flooring.
“Welcome back, George. How was the farming today?” the old man said, I looked back at him, expecting him to be talking to some random inanimate object, but he was looking up straight at me from where he was sitting. I rolled my eyes and ignored him.
“How’s the missus?” the man inquired, staring off, what was with this guy.
Joshua felt a pang in his gut. “None of your damn business.”
Suddenly there was a stirring over across the dark room, something was moving. The pang I felt before dissolved into a happiness, but I didn’t know if I it was just more roofing that was falling, or if it was someone trying to break through to find us. “WE’RE IN HERE!” I began to yell.
“STOP ICE CREAM TRUCK!” yelled the drunken man beside me. Almost becoming used to this insane outbursts from the old man, I kept on calling. A bit of dust from the debris was kicked up in my face when a piece of roofing slid to the floor, making it impossible to see. Still calling out, I covered my eyes with my arm, closed my mouth and waited for everything to settle. Slowly the dust settled and as I removed my arm I could see a little squirrel looking at me, tail curved and fluffy. When the thing realized it had been noticed, it scampered off, causing a little more dust kick up. I never before wanted to see a squirrel as road kill more in my life.
I slid down the wall I was holding myself up with, giving a loud groan. Screaming a few colorful words, I placed my head in my hands.
“I guess I’m not getting a fizzy pop.” The old man said.
I pursed my lips together, trying to keep what I wanted to say inside me. But it bottled up and came out in a rush. “WHAT THE HELL! WE ARE STUCK HERE, DAMMIT! THERE IS NO ICE CREAM TRUCK. MY NAME ISN’T GEORGE, AND NO. THOSE ARE NOT FIREWORKS!”
The old man began moving beside him, I lifted my head from my hands to see him wobble onto his own two feet and began to walk around. “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” The old man said, repeating the question back to me.
“We’re stuck in a dilapidating building, we are going to die! That’s what’s the matter!” I answered him, “And you’re crazy!” I watched the man walk about the room, he seemed to be surveying it.
“Is there anything good left for you in this world?” he said, surprising me a bit, as this was actually a conversation.
Wondering where this mans sudden almost inspiring bit came from, it infuriated me that this crazy man was asking me such a question. “You know what, there isn’t. There isn’t anything left for me in this world. I might as well be killed now. Come on God, strike me down with lightning now. I’m through!”
“You’re going to get out of here.” The old man said. I glared at him. After giving my testimonial of dying he just tells me I’m going to live? What’s with this old guy. Who the hell is he to decide?
“Don’t kid me, no one knows were here.”
The old man worked his way back to my side and sat down. I didn’t want him there. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to punch this man.
“You’re crazy.” The old man said to me, then went back to building with the drywall. “There’s always fireworks and ice cream.” I knew his sane side couldn’t last long.
Just then banging came from the area where the entranceway once stood, yelling also pursued. “IS ANYONE IN HERE?!” the voice yelled.
“YES! WE’RE IN HERE! WE’RE IN HERE!” it took me a minute to get the thought through my head that it was another human being yelling to us, I jumped up, ignoring my aching head, and flailed about my arms in a sort of wild excitement that wasn’t typical of me. A crash was heard and the dust kicked up, this time with a ray of light behind it. Even though the sun was down this bright glare of light shone through, two men in hard hats and bright yellow suits broke though with axes in hand.
“Is there anyone else that you know of in the building besides you?” the one asked.
“Yes! Yes, just me and…” I turned to look at the old man beside him. But he was no longer there.
I walked into the bar on that cool spring evening. It was a Thursday night, not a lot of people were there. Just some regulars sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender, at least I would guess they were regulars. I never come here so I wouldn’t know, but the way they were talking to the bartender made me think that this was normal everyday thing for them. I laughed at them to myself, this kind of life must really suck. I sat down at a table, alone. Slouched down and sighed. Without the desire to, I began to slowly drain into my thoughts. Catching myself, I my head, trying to shake the thoughts from my mind, and wondered where the person who would be waiting on me was. I turned to look at the skinny waitress, all dolled up with bright make up and skimpier version of the uniform everyone else in the place had. I figured she had fixed it this way herself. She was bent over at the other table next to me, flirting with the sleek business man seated there. “A little help here?” I asked, annoyed. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the most pleasant person to be around at times.
She huffed and came over, popping her gum as she did so. “What would you like, sir?” She asked in a way that made it seem like I was inconveniencing her.
“A little bit of hospitality…” I said under my breath.
“We don’t serve that here.” She said, I guess I didn’t say it quite so under my breath.
“Just give me some scotch on the rocks.” I huffed and turned to reach into my pocket to pull out my cell phone. I hadn’t missed any calls. Not like I cared. I looked up again to see if the waitress had even gone to put in my order. Figuring by this point she was going to spit in it anyway. I groaned and slumped further in my seat.
I heard at another table some kind of commotion, it had everyone’s attention in the small bar. I sat up a bit and turned in my seat to see what was going on. An old man, dressed in a white suit, looking as if he didn’t belong in this grub of a place, was looking at my spit-in-the-cup skimpy waitress. She was giving him the same annoyed look she had given me, all of her weight on one hip, tapping her high heeled foot.
“Look, old Geyser. I don’t get paid if you don’t pay me. So I need you to find some way to get me the money.” She said with another pop of her pink gum.
I felt a bit of glee inside me at this scene for two reasons, I liked that the women’s wrath would now be turned on another (maybe two spit-ins tonight?) and that the wench of a waitress might be screwed out of her tip and pay.
I turned back in my seat when I noticed that my salt and pepper shakers were shaking. The rumble also transferred to my seat. I looked up to see the glasses on the shelf begin to vibrate and bounced off their high sitting, falling to the ground with a deafening crash. A girl screamed and that seemed to be what broke the silent confused look that encompassed every face in the bar. The next moment was pure hysteria. We all realized it was an earthquake. I joined in the hysteria, getting up from my table and trying to make my way towards the door. I worked my way towards wall, deciding I might be able to push my way through better there. I never saw the large bottle of whiskey fall on top of my head.
When I came to, it was quiet, with the exception of the cackling of the lighting system above them. It was dark; I gave a moan, instantly feeling the pain in my head. My eyes slowly adjusted what they could to the little lighting and I noticed someone beside me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I realized it was the old man who was getting chewed out by my waitress before. I felt woozy, I wondered if I had a concussion. I moved my hand around the ground of where I was seated to feel the sharp jab of broken glass, figuring that was what had done me in. The old man didn’t respond to my question.
“What the hell am I doing here…” I said with a sigh, laying my painful head back against the wall. I reached my hand up to feel around my head, searching for any open wounds or blood. I felt a knot about the size of an egg on my head. I looked around the room, the best I could. It was dark out, so there was very little chance of seeing anything that way. From the quick jolts of light from the electricity cracking through the broken wires I was able to get a good feeling of what the devastated room looked like.
“These have been the worst fireworks I’ve ever seen! Back in my day… we’d… we’d… light our own… and I lost… my…” The old man beside me finally spoke, and wouldn’t it be my luck. He was crazy. “Who are you?!” he yelled at me accusingly, like he just now realized I was seated next to him.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.” I spat. I didn’t have time to deal with something like that.
I looked again across the room, the place was covered in broken glass, debris and the structure wasn’t doing so well. It seemed some of the roof had caved in on the far side, where the exit was. It didn’t look like there was much of an exit left. The old man next to me was playing with the debris, building it up into a little debris mini tower.
“Crazy old Cook.” I said to him, but felt more like I was talking to a dog, like whatever I said was pointless and foreign to the man. This infuriated me, the fact that the only person who may be able to help me in this place was mentally crazy. The man then gave a hiccup and I could smell the scent of cheap alcohol on his breath. And he was drunk. “Why the HELL am I stuck with someone like you!” I, without thinking, kicked out my leg, destroying the structure he had begun building. The rush of blood to my aching head was the only reason I regretted doing it. He turned to look at me with wide eyes and I felt like he was going to cry. This stupid grown man, why was he even alone in this place?
I reached into my pocket again, feeling for my cell phone and pulling it out. Flipped it open, to see there was no service. I wondered what was going on outside of the small bar. I wondered if she was alright. She is Andrea. My girlfriend of two years, at least up until today. Today she found out about Mary… and Becky. I think she kind of knows about Sarah too. I knew it was wrong. But I came to a point where I had to make sure there was nothing else out there in life for me. Being tied down to one person is great and all, I think, but I needed to make sure. They weren’t serious and it wasn’t like I had sex with them. Just a few harmless dates and maybe a few too many kisses behind the waiters back.
I sighed; I missed her so much now. But it was her own damn fault. She is the one that didn’t understand when I explained it all to her, granted this was after she found out about the other women. I left our place in an angered rage and came here, and now I might end up dying in this place. “It’s such a nice day. Not too sunny, not to hot. Though I do wish the fog would clear up a bit.” The old man said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I replied with a huff, deciding to try humoring the man, realizing I wasn’t getting far doing anything else. “Do you have a name?”
“Who’s asking?!” He barked at me quickly. Not the right approach obviously, I thought.
I figured if anything was going to happen, I was going to have to do it on my own. I pushed myself up the wall with a heave, feeling little pain and used the wall to balance myself. He wobbled, feeling faint from the blood rush and moved where I could around the room seeing if there was any sign of anything hopeful. Surly there was going to be a fire department coming to look for people left in the building. Something had to be coming to save them. Someone had to have seen his incident with the bottle. Would Andrea even call?
What about her? What if something happened back at her place? It was only 5 blocks away, I was almost positive own place would have been affected. Was she alright? I pulled out my cell phone yet again, telling myself it wasn’t to check for a call or something from Andrea, but just to see if there was any service. There was still nothing. I angrily snapped if shut and hurled it down, not caring if it broke. It landed, but didn’t break, just slid across the tile flooring.
“Welcome back, George. How was the farming today?” the old man said, I looked back at him, expecting him to be talking to some random inanimate object, but he was looking up straight at me from where he was sitting. I rolled my eyes and ignored him.
“How’s the missus?” the man inquired, staring off, what was with this guy.
Joshua felt a pang in his gut. “None of your damn business.”
Suddenly there was a stirring over across the dark room, something was moving. The pang I felt before dissolved into a happiness, but I didn’t know if I it was just more roofing that was falling, or if it was someone trying to break through to find us. “WE’RE IN HERE!” I began to yell.
“STOP ICE CREAM TRUCK!” yelled the drunken man beside me. Almost becoming used to this insane outbursts from the old man, I kept on calling. A bit of dust from the debris was kicked up in my face when a piece of roofing slid to the floor, making it impossible to see. Still calling out, I covered my eyes with my arm, closed my mouth and waited for everything to settle. Slowly the dust settled and as I removed my arm I could see a little squirrel looking at me, tail curved and fluffy. When the thing realized it had been noticed, it scampered off, causing a little more dust kick up. I never before wanted to see a squirrel as road kill more in my life.
I slid down the wall I was holding myself up with, giving a loud groan. Screaming a few colorful words, I placed my head in my hands.
“I guess I’m not getting a fizzy pop.” The old man said.
I pursed my lips together, trying to keep what I wanted to say inside me. But it bottled up and came out in a rush. “WHAT THE HELL! WE ARE STUCK HERE, DAMMIT! THERE IS NO ICE CREAM TRUCK. MY NAME ISN’T GEORGE, AND NO. THOSE ARE NOT FIREWORKS!”
The old man began moving beside him, I lifted my head from my hands to see him wobble onto his own two feet and began to walk around. “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” The old man said, repeating the question back to me.
“We’re stuck in a dilapidating building, we are going to die! That’s what’s the matter!” I answered him, “And you’re crazy!” I watched the man walk about the room, he seemed to be surveying it.
“Is there anything good left for you in this world?” he said, surprising me a bit, as this was actually a conversation.
Wondering where this mans sudden almost inspiring bit came from, it infuriated me that this crazy man was asking me such a question. “You know what, there isn’t. There isn’t anything left for me in this world. I might as well be killed now. Come on God, strike me down with lightning now. I’m through!”
“You’re going to get out of here.” The old man said. I glared at him. After giving my testimonial of dying he just tells me I’m going to live? What’s with this old guy. Who the hell is he to decide?
“Don’t kid me, no one knows were here.”
The old man worked his way back to my side and sat down. I didn’t want him there. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to punch this man.
“You’re crazy.” The old man said to me, then went back to building with the drywall. “There’s always fireworks and ice cream.” I knew his sane side couldn’t last long.
Just then banging came from the area where the entranceway once stood, yelling also pursued. “IS ANYONE IN HERE?!” the voice yelled.
“YES! WE’RE IN HERE! WE’RE IN HERE!” it took me a minute to get the thought through my head that it was another human being yelling to us, I jumped up, ignoring my aching head, and flailed about my arms in a sort of wild excitement that wasn’t typical of me. A crash was heard and the dust kicked up, this time with a ray of light behind it. Even though the sun was down this bright glare of light shone through, two men in hard hats and bright yellow suits broke though with axes in hand.
“Is there anyone else that you know of in the building besides you?” the one asked.
“Yes! Yes, just me and…” I turned to look at the old man beside him. But he was no longer there.