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By the fall god I look up, �Time to blow?� He raps me on the shoulder, �Yeah, let�s go.� I join in, �And we better not make it slow!� He laughs, �Ohh!� It�s not that we thought it was funny or anything. We were just bored out of our gall and were trying desperately to save a shred of sanity. We got to Mary�s house at about ten. That�s where we usually get together. Her parents are only home to visit on the weekend. They got a nice place for themselves, being rich as they were and all. Personally, I�d be laid flat if my parents left me the house as a graduation gift. We rung the bell, knocked twice and opened the door to see a slender hand raise a champagne glass out of the back of a living room chair. �Hail! Hail! The gang�s all here!� The luke-warm liquid seemed to announce in a shrilly tone. �Hey, Mary! How�s it goin�?� Gecko walked to the chair saying as Mary practically leaped from her place, squeezing him around the middle till I thought his eyes might pop out. �Gecko!� �Hey, Mary.� I exhaled meekly. �Caullin!� Maybe I shouldn�t have spoken up. You could almost hear a tear as she violently released herself from our mutual friend to rush toward me in frenzy. All doubt quickly burned in hell as I was embraced in Big Bird pajama goodness. �I bet you can�t wait for all the fun you�re going to have tonight.� Mary practically bursted. Meanwhile, I was thinking strippers? Hookers? Mary in a dominatrix outfit? I couldn�t help but picture her drunk. She often was. Naughty thoughts! Naughty thoughts. But no matter. Whatever it was, it sounded pretty good. So I was up for grabs. By the vacant look in my eye, Mary took this as time to explain things, �Ohhhhhhhhh, I see. No one told you did they? We are taking you for a night on the town!� she flailed as she hip-checked me into her chair. �Let�s go get the guys. They�re in the kitchen. C�mon!� She yanked me up by my sleeve in the general direction of the kitchen where we heard two slightly similar voices, one more eloquent, and the other gruffer. I matched the gruff voice to Bill as I saw the blackish red fingernail polish around the beer bottle. I matched the eloquent one to the long, heavy black coat with the champagne bottle to Dave. The duo was perched on opposite counters debating over Lucifer�s major malfunction, apparently. �It�s not a problem,� belched Bill. �Its just paranoia. He was just a red herring, and a scapegoat, a fall guy. If I were in the same position, I�d do the same thing.� �I�m sure you would, Brother Bill.� Retorted Dave. �But what I�m saying though, is that it�s just a self esteem thing. The Devil has low self-esteem, that�s all. He�s an abuser. He needs professional help. I don�t even really think he�s to blame. I bet it�s the father�s fault. Just imagine what he must have put the lad through!� Bill toasted, �Damn right.� Dave raised his bottle as they partook in a simultaneous swig of their particular poisons, and after a few moments, jointly looked in the direction of their audience to see what all the silence was about. Mary tapped on the doorframe, �Let�s get a move-on people. We�ve got to get ready for Caullin�s night.� As we were waiting for Mary to spruce herself up, Gecko was fixing himself a sandwich and a beer from the fridge, while Bill and Dave hadn�t moved, and began giving me advice. �So, are you guys gonna� screw or what?� said Bill. I spun over to Bill�s counter in half awe and abashment. �I, uh �� Dave cut in, �You know Caullin,� I turn towards his side. �I�ve thought about it and I�m not really sure if she likes you quite like that.� Bill countered, �I�m telling you. She is so into you.� �She must know you�re interested.� Dave said. �And know she�s taken a shine to you. I think she doesn�t think you�re her type.� Bill chanted, �Do it! Do it! Do it!� �Do what?� We all turned to see Mary in a deep blue satin evening gown. �What do you guys want to do?� she said. �Nothing.� The three of us said in unison as Bill and Dave hopped off their counters and we all motivated each other out the door. I was confused. Here we were in the van. No, not the van. The van. That�s what Dave drove anyway. He referred to it as the Mystery Machine. So here I was in the back with Mary to one side with her long, luxurious red curls and a purple-tinted window to another, wondering what was going on. Yep, things had been going kind of poorly for Caullin. Last week, I�d snagged a magazine, candy bar and soda pop from the convenience store and studied my Keno card with fervor, no luck. Gecko was across the street waiting for me. I just shrugged my shoulders when I opened the door. Gecko, his gangly Crowfoot tan, with short, spiked and bleach blond hair, rolled his emerald eyes. I looked to the sky as if to howl in frustration only to catch a drop of rain in my eye; and I flinched. It�s gonna� be a long night, I thought. What am I doing here, anyway? I move to England not very long ago and bam, I run into my school hood best friend. �Nice day, isn�t it?� I hear his voice behind me ask. �Depends whose caught in the weather.� I answer with a goofy grin as I turn around, my suspicions confirmed. I�d sworn I�d seen him around town a few times before, but I�d never been able to catch up to him. I had things to do. The dialogue we�d invented back in elementary school for a club we founded and a kick ass clubhouse we built. If anybody failed to answer correctly to the phrase, access denied. But, how much do I really know him anymore? We spent the better part of our childhood lives growing up together. We were best friends. We were inseparable. I knew him since I was practically born. Then, in the middle of the seventh grade, he suddenly had to move. He said that he couldn�t say where. He just had to move. We had been so pumped that we were soon going to be going to high school. Things were great. He gave me advice on girls. I gave him advice to shower more often. We even went on double dates sometimes. We were brothers. Then he was gone. Even my girlfriend cried. It was like he died . Now here we were again. Before a month ago, not a phone call made between best buds in five years. It had been so quiet, I could have passed a whisper across the street to him. Sometimes it�s like that when I�m around him and the rest of these guys. Dave is kind of a Satanist, however much he denies it. I�m not talking about Satan the symbolic adversary either. This is honest to God Luciferian Satanism. He�s the local Pastor�s son. I think it�s because he got his younger brother, Bill into it. And Bill got into it. Don�t get me wrong, their both great guys. Even if ole� Billy Boy does go off his rocker from time to time. Then there was Mary. Strongly Irish and strongly hot, I think that she was the deciding factor to me falling in with their little London group. Her behavior was a little strange at times, but attractive. Red hair and jade eyes does something to me. Maybe one day I�ll grow out of it. I hope not. The guys were telling me that Mary�s usually pretty shy and distant, and were surprised when she warmed up to me as she did. Mmmmm, Mary. I looked up. Figures, I thought, as we pulled into a space at The Full House Tavern. This was the bar where a lot of the students from our university go to hang out. In fact, there were a few I recognized as we were walking in. Unfortunately, following Bill, Gecko and Dave with his freakin� deathly cloak thing on, and being distracted with the self-serving people I was half acquainted with, I smacked my head on the low overhang coming in the door. One of the waitresses chuckled. Mary rushed around in front of me asking, �Oh, poor baby. Where does it hurt?� �Just my pride,� I say, �just my pride.� She holds my head in her hands, pulling me toward her and gently kisses me on the forehead. �There, now. Does that feel better?� I squeaked out, �Yes, ma�am.� While dazed from my situation, what suddenly hit me was kind of funny. Now, people at school are aware of Dave and Bill�s religious interests. They know that they are the pastor�s sons. A lot of people even know that Mary�s Irish and I�m Jewish. On this special occasion though, Dave wanted to dress up nice. So he wore his nicest black outfit; and decided on wearing a priest�s collar for effect. Bill, with features doused in make-up, died crimson hair and a blood red leather overcoat seemed a contradiction. Needless to say, we earned a couple of stares upon entering. So we sat down at the bar: one man dressed as a priest, another as a devil, an Indian, and an Irish lass leading a Jew to his seat. And on the night flew by in a semi-blur of foamy glasses and fresh ones until . . . I�m not quite sure however many hours later, a student sitting at one of the nearby tables got up from his seat and stagger-swaggered over to where Mary was sitting next to me. Sandy hair damp and all of him reeking of alcohol, my drink began loosing its effect as he spoke to her. �Hey there, miss,� the punk croaked. �What was the naughty thing that someone like you did to be caught up with these freaks?� With a disgusted look on her face that she didn�t even invest the effort to aim at him, Mary started, �Listen, I don�t know who you are, but I don�t think that --.� �Don�t think that what?� his tone weighted down. By now, Gecko, Bill and Dave had half turned toward the guy on their stools and Bill was itching toward his overcoat. �Listen, man,� I stated levelly. You should leave --.� �Oh, I�m sorry,� the moron butted in. �I wasn�t talking to � whuuu!� Mary butted in with her knee to his groin, gratifyingly dropping the looser to the hardwood floor. His two buddies at the table stood up. One pulled out a switchblade. The other cracked a bottle open on the table and pointed it as us shouting, �HEY, You can�t do that!� That was exactly what I was thinking. Wait! PAUSE. A virtual made for T.V. barroom brawl. I didn�t need this. Why? PLAY. Punk number 1 dragged himself off the floor and pulled out a knife. Then the shit hit the fan. Gecko suddenly had a butterfly knife in his hand and flung it through the opening of the broken glass bottle in Punk number 3�s hand and burying itself with a thud into the wall behind him. To my horror, Punk number 1 started stalking over to me as I found myself shouting, �Mary! What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!� No answer. As he started to lunge toward me, I quickly downed the rest of the ale in my mug and swung with my drinking arm. As my eyes were closed, I felt a sudden pause before a give. During this pause, there seemed to be a sort of shattering as my hand began to feel lighter. A warm liquid spattered my face. Oh no, I thought. I wiped my hand across my face and opened my eyes. Beer. I�d been drinking warm beer! I saw the punk stumbling around towards Bill. Gesturing towards his knife, Punk number 1 asked, �You want some of this!?� The Devil immediately pulled a .45 from his coat and promptly shot the man in both feet. Crumpling to the floor again, the punk�s knife twirled through the air and was caught by the blade between the waiting middle and fore fingers of the priest who deftly tweaked it back in the direction of Punk number 2, knocking the switchblade out of his hand with the new knife going into it, setting him to screaming. While the three punks were on the floor ranting on, I saw the Indian get his knife. As he walked over the punks, The Devil decided to shoot the other two in the feet as well. I looked back at Gecko to see that his knife was gone. With a quick glance at Bill, I guessed that his gun was now back inside the oblivion of his coat. As Mary grabbed my hand as she turned to the door, I turned my head over my shoulder, adding, �Schmucks!� for a lasting effect. Back in the van on the way back to Mary�s place, she gave me a comforting hug and told me giddily that she was glad her good luck spell had worked. My brain, trying to reflect on the profoundness of everything that happened that night in one blink, let me realize I just didn�t get it. But it was okay. I knew things were going to be fine. At least now, when I�m walking around with these guys, I know everyone will give us breathing room because they�ll be thinking the same thing I am, �Oh great. Here comes another bad joke.� |