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Ideas for stories

Trash Queen

I leaned against a wall on the outside of the bar, the wind gusted and dirt trailed along with it. For some reason I’d flipped the collar of my jacket up as though it might extend a three foot bubble of protection around my exterior. It didn’t, I still had to cup my hand around the end of my unlit cigarette as the hardened outer edge of my thumb lit my Zippo. This one had an American flag design down the side, worn away from years of lighting different cigarettes. I always bought and smoked the same brand but on nights like this I’d probably chain smoke the entire pack before the bar closed.

She’d asked me to dance and I told her that I wasn’t the dancing type; she’d slithered away coyly and danced with anybody else who’d look her way, it wasn’t ladies night but it seemed to be her goal to dance with every guy in the bar.

“Got a light?” A chipper voice asked from out of nowhere.

Nonplussed, I flattened the collar of my jacket and handed my Zippo over without making eye contact. She didn’t have the voice of a smoker.

“I smoke when I drink.” She giggled with glossy eyes. This chick could not take a hint.

“You picked a good night to start.” I grunted.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ll do tonight.” She unavoidably flashed that grin and caught my eye this time, maybe it was the fresh air hitting me and mixing with the whiskey.

“Oh yeah?” I sounded too interested.

She looked in the other direction with half of a mischievous smile. “He’s holding my table.” Switching her smoke to her other hand, she flashed me her ring finger.

What kind of man lets his wife dance with every guy in the bar? Her hand brushed mine as she passed the lighter back.

“Thanks handsome.” She winked and walked a few steps away, made small talk about hair or some shit with a group of women close by.

I shook her out of my head and returned to my chair inside, only to find that Mr. Table Holder was now seated next to my spot. For a moment I hesitated and searched for a new place to sit, why was the bar so packed?

“So here we are.” The guy slurred as I decided to reclaim my place.

“Uh huh.” I tapped the bar and another shot of whiskey magically appeared before me as I tucked my half-finished smoke into the pack with the others. It wasn’t that I was the thrifty type, but the stench of a partially smoked cigarette was an extra F- off to anybody that might try to ruin my night.

“Is she still outside?” The guy slurred more than a little.

“Who?” I asked, taking a shot, ordering another.

“Your wife.” He said.

Either he was drunk enough to overlook which finger my vintage club ring was on or he was stupid enough to think that letting his wife dance with other men was completely normal. I wasn’t looking to fight tonight but I could use some amusement. “Ah,” I began lying, waving my hand to order a couple of beers for myself and my new oblivious friend. “She’ll be dancing with half the bar all night.” I faked laughter.

He joined in on my laughter and clanked his beer stein against mine. “Women.” He shook his head.

“Can’t live with ‘em.” I began, amused.

“Can’t live without ‘em!” Clank. He grinned and held out a hand. “The name’s Wyatt.”

“Rhett.” I lied, trying to match his deep Southern drawl.

“My wife Sam,” He paused and she waved at him from the dance floor. The group of women Sam was dancing with laughed loudly a moment later. “She’s a knockout, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “But nobody’s prettier than my Watermelondrea.” Of all the names I could’ve given my imaginary wife, that’s the one my brain spewed.

“Yep.” Wyatt said. “She sure is purdy.”

“Babyyy!” Sam said, throwing her arms around Wyatt’s neck and giving him a sloppy kiss. “Can you send a round of shots to my new friends?!”

“Of course.” Wyatt replied.

I tried to hide my smirk.

“Who’s your friend?” Sam noticed me.

“Rhett.” Wyatt introduced.

“Rhett?” She giggled and held a hand toward me limply. I never knew whether to shake ladies hands or freaking kiss them when they held out their hands like that. I gave a gentle I-don’t-want-to-crush-your-ladyhand darlin’ handshake to her but ended with a firm grip around her wrist and a devious grin. She bit her lip in response. “Nice to meetcha!” She added.

“Likewise.” I tilted the brim of my hat ever so slightly.

With Wyatt distracted by one of Sam’s new lady friends, Sam convinced me to sway slowly with her in an unlit section of the dance floor. “She’s a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timin' man.” The too loud music sang as we two stepped.

Another smoke, another beer, another slow dance together and I found myself gathering my wits about me with the cold metal of a green dumpster in the back alley steadying my back. I should’ve gone home, she should’ve gone home. We shouldn’t have been entangled in each other’s arms with hearts beating hard enough to send extra blood pulsating to our ear drums, sloppy bland beer and sharp cigarette tainted kisses hotter than our radiating skin after a hot summer day. My nipples were visible through my shirt and her lip stain would leave a mark. She’d think of me when she was forearm deep in soapy dishwater and run a fingernail across her lips and I’d remember her every time I stumbled out of the back of the bar to piss on the wall.

Notes

Comments

@onefinalfightdoe


De nada!

SmuttyPariah SmuttyPariah
1/4/17

@smutty pariah

Thank you SP ^_^

Whoa, the hubcap thing is surreal!

SmuttyPariah SmuttyPariah
1/3/17

Haha, the auction is amusing!

SmuttyPariah SmuttyPariah
1/3/17

@onefinalfightdoe


<3 Back at you!

SmuttyPariah SmuttyPariah
11/9/16