WHITE TRASH, UGLY STRIPPERS, AND
BARTENDING MIDGETS
guarding me spent the majority of his time trying to
fuck the LPN that was on duty at the same time.
When she wasn't around he never spoke a word to
me. Usually he just parked his fat ass in a chair
while reading issues of Muscle & Fitness, Flex,
Soldier Of Fortune, and Clits and Tits. When he
wasn't doing that he was laughing like a retard at
some moronic daytime game show.
"This local cop gig is just small time shit for
me. Just a resume builder. Soon as I get enough
time in I'm going to put my application in for the
FBI. With my background, Army, college, and a
couple of years here on the force. Shit, I'm a shoo-in
for the Feds."
"Really. Isn't that dangerous work? Bank
robbers and all that kind of stuff." The young nurse
sounded starry eyed with wonder and awe.
"I live for danger. I even tried to join the
Green Berets when I was in the Army but they
turned me down. The pussy bastards. Said I was too
radical for them."
"Sounds like you've had a real exciting life.
First the Army, then being a policeman. I
sometimes wish I could do something like that.
Things can get pretty dull around here. This is about
the most excitement we've had here in years."
I could hear the crinkle of leather as he
hitched his gun belt up. "That's why I'm here. This
guy is one bad dude. They put me on the tough
cases. This prick gives you any crap you just let me
know. I don't have time for scum like this. I'll kick
his ass around the room if he gives you any grief."
"Oh, he hasn't given me any trouble. Hasn't
spoken a word and he is handcuffed to the bed."
***
I was down on the floor of the Aragon Bar.
That's not a floor you normally want to be laying
on. I don't think the goddamn thing had been swept
much less mopped in the last decade. Sticky spilled
beer, cigarette butts, piss, spunk, those nasty frozen
Margaritas that come out of machine, chewing
tobacco, and God knows what else were all part of
the sights and smells of my current location.
Unpleasant to say the least.
"Don't you move a muscle, motherfucker!"
That was the bartender talking and the asshole who
had shot me with a tiny chrome .25 automatic. To
add insult to injury, the dirty son of a bitch was a
midget. I had been shot by a midget! Quite a life I
was living.
"Shit! Jesus Christ! Goddamn! You little sawed off bastard!"
I was curled up in the fetal position clutching my wound. The shot, almost point blank, had caught me high on the
shoulder. Luckily for me the .25 snub-nose
automatic is one of those pistols that are designed to
be jammed directly into the body before emptying
the clip, a close range weapon. Probably why it's
called a Saturday night special. Since the bartender
had fired over the bar at me, a distance of about
three feet, and had been aiming at my heart, he had
missed by about five inches.
"Cletus! Cletus! Are you OK? Talk to me!
Oh, shit!" The bartender was now leaning over
Cletus la Favor who was lying face down on the
floor, his head in a rapidly increasing pool of blood.
He was not moving. Sirens could be heard off in the
distance.
la Favor hadn't noticed me when I walked
into the bar and sat down in a booth across from the
bar and close to the stage where a silicone
enhanced, g-stringed, peroxide blonde who looked
to be about fifty, bumped and grinded all over the
stage. She was dangerously skinny with huge tits
that sported pierced nipples. Obviously she had to
be on some sort of speed or crystal meth for as
active as she was, bounding all around on the stage
like she was playing Las Vegas. As she pranced
around I realized in astonishment that she wasn't as
old as she appeared to be since I now vaguely
recognized her as a member of my graduating class
and who had once been a member of the
cheerleading squad.
Besides the stripping ex-cheerleader, la Favor,
the midget bartender, and myself, there were
only two other patrons in the bar. A drunk Indian
who was face down in his booth and a old geezer
who appeared to be jerking-off under the table as he
gazed lovingly at the stripper who's name I now
remembered for some strange reason. Janet Eason.
Her stage name was Juggy Jillian.
"What are you drinking?" A mean eyed
waitress sporting a platinum colored mohawk had
appeared out of nowhere and was now standing
alongside my table. She was wearing a white
muscle shirt and her arms and shoulders were
totally covered with tattoos and she too was
sporting a huge pair of enhanced hooters.
"Beer. Whatever you have on tap." She gave
me a odd look as she went to get my brew.
That bitch should looks familiar, I had
thought. Holy shit! Was that? It was Angel! I
thought she was dead for fucking sure after la Favor
had killed Mike and dragged her ass off in his car.
All this time I had been too worried about saving
my own ass much less worry about what the hell
happened to her. Did she recognize me? I don't
think so. Shit, it's been almost ten years and I've put
on almost fifty pounds and sport a full beard with
hair hanging halfway down my back. She must be
part of la Favor's crew now or he's got her turning
tricks for the bar crowd here. Or maybe not! I now
remembered that Angel had danced here at the
Aragon from time to time back then. Maybe she had
been the one that snitched us off. That's why la
Favor came back up the stairs that night. When they
took her downstairs to the car she must have told la Favor
that I was there but I must have been hiding
up in the attic. That's why they were going to burn
the place down. la Favor could never have gotten
his fat ass up into that crawl space.
I reached inside my jacket and felt the
miniature baseball bat tucked inside the inner
pocket. It was a memento from my childhood. They
only thing I had found when I rooted through the
burned down remains of my childhood home.
la Favor hadn't waited for the two week deadline that
he gave me. It had been only eight days since he
had called me when I got back home. When I pulled
my rental car up into the driveway all that was left
standing was the garage. I had walked around
aimlessly poking at the rubble. I found the
Minnesota Twins bat stuck under a fallen and
charred ceiling beam. It was only slightly burned
and discolored but intact. It was from a game day
giveaway from the only time my father had taken
me and my shit older brother, Ronnie, to a pro
baseball game. The Twins versus the Yankees. The
Twins had yet to come close to winning a World
Series and had gotten the crap beaten out of them
that day. But it still had been a great day. My
brother and I had been allowed to binge on the hot
dogs and watered down Cokes while the old man
got belligerently drunk on draft Hamm's beer. To
my delight my brother had gotten hideously sick on
the dogs and barfed right there in the stands.
"Your daddy ran off three days before that
criminal cocksucker burned his place down!" I
looked up to find my father's ancient neighbor, Roy
Huffman, standing in the driveway. He had looked a
hundred years old when I was a kid and still looked
about the same. Not a day younger or a day older.
"You the one that Cletus la Favor ran out of
town aren't you? The one that cracked that fucker in
the head with a baseball bat."
"That's me all right."
"Well, your daddy figured out once
Pighouse Pete got himself killed up at the prison
that old Cletus was going to start coming around to
finish up old scores so he took off. Packed up some
shit in his old pickup and was gone. Must have been
about five in the morning. Bought the time I came
out to get the Star Tribune. If that shit for brains
paperboy found the right yard to fling it in that is."
"Any idea where he went?"
"Don't have a clue. Can't say that I'd tell you
anyway if I knew. I'd prefer not to have Cletus la
Favor come over here and burn my goddamn house
down. That big son of a bitch always was fond of
fire for some reason. That and running cats over
with lawnmowers He was an evil shit even as a
child."
I dug the small bat down into a pile of what
appeared used to be my old rock album collection.
The only cover I could make out was Lynyrd
Skynyrd's Second Helpings. "I guess you're right on
that call." I started towards my car.
"You planning on planting that bat upside
Cletus's head again?" The old fart laughed with a
wheeze brought on by a lifetime of Lucky Strikes.
I stopped at looked at the bat I still held in
my hand for a second and then looked back at our
old neighbor. "You know, that's one hell of a
fucking idea. Where do you think I could find that
fat tub of shit?"
Roy spit in the grass and looked around like
someone may be listening. "The Aragon Bar.
Without a doubt. That nasty pricks whole life has
revolved around that crap-pile. Strippers and booze
and drugs. Wouldn't surprise me if he has a bed in
his office there." He turned and headed towards his
house and then quickly turned around. "But you
didn't hear that from me."
I decided right then and there to check out
the "The best defense is a good offense" theory that
you always here sportscasters babbling about.
Angel had my beer on a tray but sidled over
to where la Favor stood at the bar, hunched over as
he weeded through a stack of Easy Rider and
Hustler magazines. She gave a quick glance
towards my direction and then began to whisper in
his ear. I pushed away from my table and was
already five feet behind them when they both
started to turn towards me. Cletus had his hand in
his jacket pocket and was pulling out a pistol.
Looked like a military issued .45. As he turned he
started to raise his arm up. I wound up my swing
from my hip.
"Eat this, bitch!" The bat caught Cletus just
at the point where the jaw meets the ear. You could
have heard the crack out the bar and across the
street. Spit and blood shot from la favor's mouth.
The bat shattered upon impact and the top half flew
across the bar and smashed into the mirror that was
behind all the dusty booze bottles, sending the
broken shards of glass flying. Cletus's legs seemed
to lock in place and he fell face down on the floor,
stopping on the way down to smack his face on the
old time brass foot rail. I turned to Angel but she
was already busting ass out the back door.
I didn't hear the shot from the midget's
pistol.
To be continued....
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