decided to share a page or two, a small chapter from one of my in-progress fiction novels.
Theres alcohol reference and little bit of language. Enjoy.
When we hopped into Lenny's car that night, little did we know that we were headed for disappointment. As we got off and made our way to the main entrance, all I could think was: Oh, hell, no. Not again. Home, sweet home? Not anymore.
The yellow, plastic tape stretched across the door warned us not to cross, and there were blood stains on the pavement. There appeared to be some bullet holes in the thick brick wall left to the door but that could’ve just been my imagination. The bar, our favorite bar, was closed.
“Whatever happened here was crazy,” Lenny said.
“Oh come on man, when could this've happened? We’re here almost every day,” I replied.
“Well, no point in staying here any longer.” He rotated his car keys in his fingers, and nodded at me as if saying, "Hey! You get it, right? Let’s go!"
We walked back to his 1982 red Chevy Impala; the front lights flashed as Lenny clicked off the alarm system.
“Like anyone would like to steal this [piece of] crap,” I said.
“Don’t underestimate the value of wheels, my friend,” he responded.
The car made all sort of quirky noises, the entire thing shook as the engine started pumping gas, and the tires shrilly screamed as soon as the car started moving.
The bar called “Loaded” was another of our usual hangouts. It was much simpler than the other, and we didn't like it as much. A jukebox, around twenty tables in the whole place and some neon lights filled the decoration, trying to give the scum hole some life. It was here that we met Victor, another friend of Lenny's.
“And we were in the other room, trying to get our work done, we told her to shut down the main switch, but she kept nagging around that her fishes would die without a filter for clean water!” Victor was in the middle of telling a story, which was something he was good at.
"Sorry to interrupt you," Lenny said, "but my mouth's so dry as I've just had a handful of sand. Why don't you order us some beers Joe?."
I sighed. Called the waitress and asked for the a couple of the coldest they had.
"Go on mate"
“Eventually, we convinced her,” Victor continued, “but while Marcus was busy doing the electrical setup, the stupid old lady turned on the switch back up to save her [precious little] fishies’ lives. She fried the poor guy.”
Our beers arrived. "time to sip it up!" Victor shouted.
Slamming the now-empty glass on the cheap metal table, Lenny said, trying to catch his breath, “I would hate to get killed by an old lady.”
“But, anyway,” Victor went on, “she was found liable for all the charges they threw at her.”
I said, “Bitch is going to be inside for a while.” Then I proceeded to empty the remaining of my beer.
“Do you think she'll get lucky inside?” Lenny asked.
I laughed. “Bet she'll get more excitement in one week than in her last 10 years.”
“You want another round, guys?” Victor asked.
“No, thanks.” I said. “My tank's almost full.”
“Come on… do it for Marcus.”
“Yeah… for Marcus.” Lenny smiled.
“All right. Bring it.” I said.
Victor poured out a smoke ghost as he lit his cigarette
[I would like to thank Night Wanderer, Member of writersbeat.com for helping me out with this draft]
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