(I don’t normally post my writings to my art page, but i thought some of you might get a kick out of it.)
The song I just played on the juke box makes me feel like somebody else for 3 minutes, and that’s just long enough for me to forget about whatever brought me here.
The lyrics are not mine, but when the songs over I can recall a dozen times when they could have came in handy.
The bartender wipes a glass, and some football game is playing over his head, the score zero to zero.
A big man at the other end of the bar slams his drink down hard, spilling everywhere
“Hey Bruce! Will you turn the fucking game up?
The bartender just points to the jukebox then me, not once looking up.
“Hey kid! How many songs you play then?”
I think of ignoring him but then again, I was the one who chose to go to a bar tonight rather than drinking alone, so in a way I brought it upon myself.
I tell him, looking to my bloated reflection in the curved brown glass.
“Well could you have at least played something we all wanted to hear? Am I right people? Come on!”
Nobody pays him any mind. Everyone is too busy with internal bullshit of their own.
“I mean seriously, Is this guy some fucking queer? Shit, you kid’s nowadays don’t know shit from piss.”
Again, I strongly consider not responding, because anybody who calls Freddy Mercury gay in a way that doesn’t directly address the fact that he is a gay, and in a way that intends him being gay makes him any less of a god, whoever is saying this obviously was born without soul. But what the hell right? Maybe he’s just the one person in the world that’s never heard queen before.
“So what would you have played then?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. Something fucking tough like The Destroyers or Nugent, You know? Something that makes you drive to your exes to dip your wick. I mean c’mon, this song just makes me want to shoot myself.”
I look to him for the first time, and I see that he’s the typical Sturgis shirt wearing, Marboro smoking, wife beating, son neglecting, post womanizing son of a similar bastard you see in every bar, and in every town. But I guess I could have told you that without looking.
The song end’s and the next one start’s. It’s “Love reign o’re me” by The Who. A great song. It begins with the sound of rain and piano, but builds and builds into something really powerful. Every time that I hear it I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff feeling every rain drop, the waves crashing below my feet, breaking, and splashing up to me and then falling away like everything else I ever worried about before the song started.
“Is this The Who? Really? Could you of at least played fucking squeezebox! I stopped listening to them when I heard this stupid album. It’s all this artsy fart bullshit that makes men wear skirts and buy small dogs. You really like this huh? Boy you must be a fucking fairy then”
He grabs his drink and walks toward me. For a moment I consider the fact that he is going to kick my ass and possibly kill me, but then I realized that he just knocked my favorite, and possibly most important conceptual album ever released, and if that isn’t a reason to take a punch from some inbred douche then I don’t know what is.
“You know, you remind me of my little boy, don’t talk to him no more because he’s too much like his retarded mom, but whatever. I bet you two fags would really hit it off”
He’s hovering over me now, and I continue to look at my reflection, unmoving, furious.
“Hey boy? You hear me? HEY! Anybody in there?”
He’s knocking on my head with big gorilla fists, so I swat them away. I’m starting to scare myself at how evil I look in the glass.
“OH! Does little kitty have claws? Am I making the kitty mad?”
Nobody looks up from their drink, nobody give’s a shit.
“Does the little kitty like dogs? I bet the kitty is afraid of dogs, I bet the little kitty is afraid that I’m a dog? Huh? Is the little kitty bitch scared?”
He minds me of somebody I used to know, he reminds me of somebody I could have been.
“Look at you in that stupid jacket. You wouldn’t last an hour with us. My men would eat you alive and sharpen your bones for the next pussy joining just for the college money. It’s motherfuckers like you that give us marines a bad name, sporting our honorable skins like it’s some fancy coat. You see me boy? You hear me? Huh? You hear me kitty bitch? Do you even know what it means to look a man in the eye and feel respected and to respect him because your both fucking men? Do you? No you don’t! Because you’re a little puss licking kitty bitch that hides from the real fuckers like us!”
Just then my third song starts. “No time” by the guess who. A classic Fuck you kind of anthem, it’s an overplayed radio hit, but I still like it to this day. Derek sharp is singing “No time left for you, on my way to better things, ill find myself some wings, distant roads are calling me.” It’s the perfect song to make me feel like I can actually take him. I think of the perfect thing to say and almost laugh trying to say it.
I spin and aim for his big square chin but he moves to the side and I fall down to the floor, not landing on my feet like a cat would, but rather on my face like any other drunk fucker falling from a stool.
“Whoa there kid! Calm down ok? I was only seeing if you had it in you, and I’ll be damned, you did this whole time! Shit, now I feel like a fool, here, let me buy you a drink.
He waves the bartender over and asks for two triple whiskeys before even offering me a hand.
“You ok boy? That was quite the fall?”
I pull a peanut shell from my sweaty, red face.
“Fuck you man” I say
“What? Hey! I was just fucking with you! I like to ruffle peoples feathers up from time to time, I didn’t mean to offend you all that much, ok?”
“No, fuck you man, you’re the one who’s scared, your the one who’s scared of kid’s like me because we remind you of yourself and how maybe you could have done something different with your life if you hadn’t knocked up that bitch senior year, because maybe then you wouldn’t of had to stay in the same fucking town all your life working for your dad. Am I right? Am I on the fucking nail or what?”
“Look kid, I don’t know who you think you are or how you know my daddy, but this isn’t your normal city bar full of little college bitches. These here folks will turn a blind eye to my kicking in your teeth, and odd’s are they will probably join me to teach you some manners, am I right people? Come on!”
Still, nobody acknowledges him.
“C’mon people! This is turner fucking county! We stick up for each other right? We teach outsiders not to come fucking around! Am I right or am I right! C’mon people!”
An old man pipes up. He looks near to death
“Shut the hell up Donny, were just trying to enjoy our Friday night, quit acting like a damn fool.”
“But dad, you taught me how that us local’s have to protect our-“
“I don’t give a fuck about what I taught you, it’s all shit, I’ve been drunk since I was fourteen and yet you still follow me around like I’m some fucking Christ. Shit boy, you ain’t no man, I still wake you for work and cook your egg’s in the morning.”
Big man Donny has an open mouth and big eyes like a boy caught masturbating. The old man continues.
“I look forward to being dead every day because then I’ll just look down from the clouds and laugh”
Everyone in the bar laughs, and then at the same time they all light up a smoke
“Dammit Donny! Go wait in the car or I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll be shitting from your mouth for weeks, you hear me boy?”
Big man Donny say’s quietly, dragging his feet out the door.
“Don’t mind him boy, he’s an idiot just like his mother. He Doesn’t know shit about music either. The last one you played was a good one, how bout another?
He hands the bartender a 5, and the bartender hands it to me.
I can only smile and accept his money.
“Do you like Dylan?” I ask
“Do I like Dylan? Ha, You hear that guys? The boys asking if I like Bob Dylan”
Everyone in the bar starts laughing hysterically.
“Do I have fucking ears?”