It was Friday night and the big city blues were in full swing. Amidst the swirl of alcohol and misty tobacco I was with a few of the (motley) crew from lower south side getting totally blitzed on cheap vodka and snakebites as we sat listening to the sound of rebellion coming from the Fat Larry jukebox.
Call me Joe by the way. At last count I’m 25 going on 40. Looks wise I’m tall, dark but nothing special at all. Anyway, I looked better in the shadows. In the shadows is what I do best these days. Give me a dark corner away from the bright city lights any time. Nothing beats living and riding on the cutting edge of twilight as day turns to dusk. No rules – No responsibility is my motto. Look after number one. Friday night was the night to hang loose with the band and watch the underworld come to life whilst listening to jumping jack flash having a gas gas gas.
Nate, 22, a slave to his music with his orange hair glowing neon like in the gloom lifted his shaggy head and waved his glass wanting attention from whichever waitress had the bottle of 100% proof vodka to hand. “Hey bitch babe, need a refill like yesterday. Come on honey gimme another shot.” As you can see Nate has a way with the ladies.
Across the table Bruno, a 5′ 6 pocket midget mongrel of mixed Italian/Portuguese decent and our rhythm king looked up from behind his veil of Cuban mist and flicked a peanut at our ladies man. “Hey reefer, show the lady some fuckin’ respect man. If not for her you’d have ta haul that skinny ass of yours to the bar.”
Nate made a face at the bass man and gave him the single digit salute. “Eat me, beat me, you slicked back prick.” He turned as the waitress came over with a collection of shorts and long burns on her tray. “About time honey.” he muttered sarcastically.
The petite legit blonde ignored his pimple-covered face. “Don’t call me honey or else.” said the girl as she glanced in my direction.
FINISH READING CLICK PAGE : “An All American Spanking, wrapped in Pie”