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Those Were The Days

It was October and the place was Gunther’s. The Bavarian style trappings around the large cigarette smoke stained mirror behind the bar were the only things German about the dive, except Gunther of course. Other than that, the bar was indistinguishable from other neighborhood watering holes.

Gunther’s had all the amenities of other dank places Jerry drank in: dust floating through sunlight filtered by dirty blinds, liquor bottles stacked on the shelves behind the bar, an unleveled pool table with a rack of chipped balls, old metal kitchen chairs with torn vinyl padding, and pressboard paneling. But, Jerry held Gunther’s in the highest esteem and would only stumble in during the magical month of October. That was where he celebrated ‘Oktoberfest’. That is where he drank to remember. And he had nothing but fond memories of the years he was stationed in Germany…….

…….Jerry was in the ‘Fatherland’ a few months before the annual celebration of that legendary wedding began. In his off time, he was mostly a loner. He would rent a car, grab some beers (or ‘road pops’ as he called them), and cruise the countryside. In this manner he became familiar not with the well-traveled roads, but with the ones that had the least traffic.

When the night grew late he would head back into Munich and rent one of the whores who worked near the base. Jerry would fuck them, verbally abuse them, and occasionally hit one of them. He’d send them on their way and then he’d shake and tremble with pleasure. The pleasure of dominance. Sometimes, before he got back to the base, he’d masturbate when he thought of how he had control over those women.

By the time Oktoberfest rolled around, Jerry knew that he didn’t control those women. After all, he did pay them for their services. This sad fact ate at him more and more. He decided that a trip to the big party might be just what he needed.

Three days into the celebration, Jerry spied his prey. She was a raven-haired beauty who seemed to be alone. He followed her until he saw his chance. A little spilled beer and before too long, they were laughing it up and walking from beer hall to beer hall.

Then, just as he was beginning to think he couldn’t get her from the crowd, “Jerry, let’s go to Dunkel. The crowd is much smaller there and we can get the beer much quicker.”

“Sophie, what a grand idea. It just so happens that I have a rented car parked not too far from here.”

Once in the car and on their way, Sophie interrupted one of their outbursts of drunken laughter, “There is a quicker way to Dunkel, Jerry.”

“ I kinda like the back roads. Besides I gotta find a place to stop and piss.”

“Okay.”

They both laughed while Jerry found just the familiar pull off. He crawled out and went to the back of the car.

“Sophie, come out here. There’s something hilarious you gotta see.”

She was too drunk to resist, so she got out and stumbled to the back of the car. When she got there, Jerry grabbed her by the wrist.

“What are you doing?” She gasped.

“I’m gonna get some of what you got, you bitch.”

Just as she began to scream, he hit her to dragged her into the woods. A few minutes later, while leaning against a tree and smoking a cigarette, he studied her lifeless, partially nude body in the moonlight that found its way into the Black Forest.

Now he was at peace with himself………

……..Jerry wiped the remains of the first imported draught from his chin with a dirty flannel sleeve, set the mug down and ordered another from Gunther.

As he swam through the next beer, he remembered the following year and Anna, and then the next year with Maggie, and then his promotion in rank, and then the transfer.

His German memories had run out and he was thinking about the disappointment of seeing overrated American women for the next five months. But, he thought, it’ll be March and he will be sitting in Paddy’s, fondly recalling Ireland.

That Wasn't Ewe At the Bar

Tiffany looked sheepishly over her glass of wine at him while she took a sip. When she lowered her drink she tried to speak over the bar noise, but not too far over, “So, say that line again Howard. That was most unique”.

“My pleasure.” Howard said as he gently laid his hand on hers, “You’re daddy musta been the world’s greatest jewel thief, for he plucked the brightest and prettiest two stars from the sky and used them for your eyes.”

She grinned a grin that absolutely melted Howard. They way her lips playfully frolicked when she spoke was enough to send him soaring. She’s it he thought. She’s the one. But, there was something unsettling about her. He just couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Howard. I know a place where the moonbeams fall so that we can waltz on them. Can I take you there?” She said with a pheromone laden voice.

“Tiffany. I’m firmly in the grasp of your palm.”

“Let’s go then.” She grabbed her wrap and began to walk from the bar with Howard in an obedient tow.

Once in her apartment, Tiffany began to kiss Howard very hard and very deep. Howard was beginning to wonder what charm had befallen him to make a girl act so crazy over him. But, he didn’t wonder long, he just enjoyed the moment and played along.

She kissed him right into the bedroom and out of his clothes. She laid him on the bed and as quick as a magician had him handcuffed to the headboard.

“Hey now!” He almost shrieked.

“Shhhh.” As she gently put her index finger across his lips, “You just lay here and let your mind flow with all the naughty possibilities while I go and get undressed.” With that she rose and went into the bathroom.

His mind didn’t flow; hell it flat out raced through all the erotic scenarios that could happen next.

Howard let out a loud gasp when the unclothed Tiffany appeared at the foot of the bed.

Tiffany removed the wig to reveal a blonde crew cut and said, “Not who you thought I was, am I.” With that he threw his body onto Howard and began the rape.

Chad and Shelly Sitting In A Tree...

“…..K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Chad pushing a baby carriage!” The giggling girls sang out as they skipped and ran past Chad and Shelly, who had just been caught kissing behind an oak tree on the way to school.

Shelly firmly took the embarrassed Chad’s hand and walked with him to the schoolyard. She pulled him right up to the group of girls, who were still giggling, and proclaimed, “That’s just fine girls. Chad and I will be married someday. You just wait and see.”

***

“Okay you two, come on out of there.” It was principal Swanson and he had just caught them making out under the bleachers at the Homecoming game.

“Mr. Swanson, I’m sure you had a high school sweetheart that you tried to steal away for a kiss or two didn’t you?” Were the first words out of Shelly’s mouth when the two had emerged.

Swanson paused and then smiled,” That may be so young lady, but we’re talking about you two now. You both know this is a punishable offense, but I’m lettin’ you off the hook this time. Just don’t let me catch you back here again.”

With that, Shelly grabbed Chad’s hand and ran off towards the game. It took Chad several minutes to regain the natural color of his face.

***

The rapping on the window, just before the flashlight beam had shattered the darkness had caused them both to sit up.

Chad had rolled his window down and sputtered, “ Y-y-es officer.”

“Let’s see your license son. You two are trespassing.”

Before Chad could fish his wallet out, Shelly chimed in as she was buttoning her blouse, “Officer O’Malley, isn’t it?” she continued before he could speak, “ Did you get a nice show before you knocked? Everyone knows you’re a peeper. We’d gladly take the trespassing charge for a chance to dredge up some unpleasant memories for you.”

O’Malley wouldn’t even look at Chad’s license. He just scowled at Shelly for several seconds and then broke the silence with, “Okay you two, get the hell out of here and consider yourselves lucky that it was me that caught you here and not some hard nose like Brown.”

“T-t-hank You sir.” Chad said as he started the car.

Shelly laughed the entire trip back to her house.

***

Chad sat at the kitchen table with the evidence in front of him. Cell phone bills, E-mail that he forgot to delete, and a tube of lipstick that he knew didn’t belong to Shelly. His shame painted a deep red on his face and ears.

“So, you are not taking the kids and leaving. I don’t get it. You have caught me cheating on you and you are going to let it pass?” Chap spoke with an air of confusion.

“Yes Chad darling, I’m staying. I love you far too much to think that this terrible thing was completely your fault. Sure I was angry, even furious, when I put the equation together. But, when I put some logic to it I saw that we both got lost. We love each other far too much to not work this out.” She added, “ We are just going to have to regain what we started in the fourth grade.”

***

The porch light came on, flooding the yard and revealing Chad and Shelly. They had just finished carving their names in the old oak tree.

“What are you kids doing out there?” Yelled the old man from his front porch.

“We’re just looking for something we lost. But it’s okay, I think we found it.” Shelly answered back cheerfully.

Don't Forget About Red

Three steps, two steps, one,  then he grabbed the rim with both hands and in one swift, smooth motion, he was in the barrel. In the time it took Red Smoker to lunge past the barrel and make his turn to charge, Slappy Stone was able to think about how alive he felt and how everything leading up to his upcoming moment was going so perfect.

Slappy studied the animal for the last six months on the circuit, and knew every muscle twitch the bull made. In predictable fashion, Red Smoker was reacting to every prompt that Slappy gave.

The crowd, and what a crowd it turned out to be, was electrified. As well they should be, because they all came out to see Slappy appear in his last rodeo. In the TV spot for the show, Slappy had promised everyone a special treat that they would never forget.

Now the crowd and the bull were eating from the palm of his hand and his ‘Grand Finale’ was just a few moments away.

He readied himself as he heard Red Smoker’s thunder approach the barrel. WHOMP! The barrel was launched by eighteen hundred pounds of furious bull. Dust began to fly as the cask o’ clown hit the ground and began to roll.

Once the barrel came to a stop, Slappy crawled out and scanned the ring for Red Smoker. He spotted the bull just across the way and was pleased by the distance. The beast stood wagging his tail and looking back at Slappy. The crowd hushed at the sight of an apparent stare down between the two combatants.

A collective gasp bellowed from the gallery as the scene unfolded. Slappy began to charge Red Smoker at an all out pace. The bull reacted with its own charge.

Every step towards the bull felt sure and steady. Slappy revealed the bright yellow palm of his glove to Red Smoker at the precise moment needed. The bull lowered his head to ready for the hit. The clown planted his right foot and launched himself into the air.

The seconds began to erode away as if they were hours. Slappy became keenly aware of his flight path and the beauty in its mathematics. He saw the beast pass under his stretched body as it struck at the vacated place where he once was. The clown could hear the roar of the silence from the crowd. And then, as he passed over the bull, he heard a woman shriek, “Oh my God”. And then somebody said, “Look at that!” Then he heard two gasps. And, as he cleared the bull and began his descent the noise of the crowd began its crescendo.

He ended his flight with a tumbler’s somersault across the ground and through the raised cloud of dust. At the end of his roll he jumped high into the air with both hands grabbing as much sky as they could hold. His excitement jolted him with high voltage. The crowd thundered and the ring was littered with Stetsons.

And then, at just a moment too late, he heard the thundering hooves.

*****

“That was some goin’ out you put on the other night, Slappy.” Toby Martin, champion cow roper, had said from his chair next to Slappy’s bed. “But, was it worth the hundred and twenty-seven stitches in yer rear?”

“Hmmmm…..one-hundred and twenty-seven stitches. I don’t think it was worth it in the end, but the rest of me sure felt good about it.”

One Fine Morning

Chuck awoke that morning and shook off the chilly night air that gave way to a warm spring morning. It sure felt like a nice day was beginning to brew outside. He could sense it from deep inside his home.

He was hungry, the kind of hunger that attacks one after a deep, uneventful sleep. But, he thought he’d straighten up his place somewhat before he headed out for breakfast. He had become quite adept at dealing with dirt, besides, he didn’t have much else to do all day but eat and make sure that dirt was put in its place.

When he finished the chore of straitening up he preened himself a bit before he went to the entrance of his home. He checked his coat one last time before he poked his head through the opening. After all, he may run into an interesting female who may prove to be a suitable mate.

Once checked, he stood on his hind legs and rested his front ones on the edge of his hole. The wind was coming from the west, the direction of the tree line. He pointed his nose in that direction, for it was there he would find some juicy, young leaves that would make a succulent meal, and he didn’t want to be ambushed by any predators.

With the wind coming from that direction he should be able to easily pick up any troublesome scent; nothing there. So he turned to the east, where the road ran parallel to the tree line.

Once, when he was younger, he had scurried up from his hiding place and started to make his way for the tree line without fully checking the landscape. He had gotten between his home and the oasis, when he heard footfalls behind him. When he stopped to look he saw, to his horror, three dogs from the farm across the road. He was just able to make it to the relative safety of his hole through some fancy maneuvering. There he made a stand against the canine aggressors that lasted for some uncounted, exhaustive time. He wouldn’t put his life on the line again due to not being cautious.

No dogs, but he did see something on the road. It wasn’t moving, and it looked like some human contraction, one of those that can move along the road at a good speed.

He never had a chance to experience the pain. The fast traveling, thirty ought six, lead slug pierced his right eye, and exploded out the back of his skull, cleaning most of his brains from their bowl.

Stu said, ”Nice shot Bob. Clean through the right eye. Just like you said”. He let the binoculars drop and reached for his wallet.

As Bob took the five from Stu’s hand he said, “Shoulda never bet me Stu. Now, let’s go get that varmint and collect our ten dollar bounty from Mr. Ramsey. That ol’ plowboy’ll be happy he’s got one less groundhog to be bothered with.”

The Truth Hurts

He learned his lesson about lying to her that time he took five bucks from her purse. The things she did with super glue while he was asleep. She was flat out crazy. No way would he ever lie to her again.

He was just leaning inside the icebox to grab his next bottle of beer when she appeared in the kitchen, wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Winter was setting in so she had put her summer threads away and was in the process of trying on her cozier, warmer clothes.

“Is my butt getting bigger?” She asked.

He had one hand on top of the refrigerator door and was in mid-reach when she hit him with that sledgehammer of a question. He stopped, glanced over his shoulder and gave a deadpan reply, “Looks that way to me.”

The last thing he heard, just before his existence began to blurt itself all over the yellowed linoleum floor, was her uttering “asshole”. That warm and wet sensation, of what must have been his urine being soaked up by his pants, at last relinquished itself to the furious activities of the brain going through the process of physiological bankruptcy. His life had sped before him, as the chemicals that held his memories became inert. Fear of death was now acceptance, and now he was left waiting for that last neurological light to burn out.

As he waited, he wondered what was protruding from the center of his back. It had to be the butcher knife she used for everything from dicing onions, to prying apart those frozen beef patties.

Then the wait, along with everything else, was over.