Chapter 35

The Last Call, just the mention of the place makes my stomach get a little uneasy. I know that country bars have their place, I just haven’t figured out where.

Even before I go, I know the music will be bad and loud. The place will be dirty and smell like spilled beer and cheap cigarettes. There will be fights and somebody throwing up. The people that attend places like this are usually desperate, looking for something they can’t find without the help of alcohol and people in the same situation.

I park around back, hoping Mom and her bevy of spies will not see my truck. Just to be safe, I turn my cell phone off. That way, there’s no way she can call me every five minutes asking where I am and who I’m with.

That gets a little old for a person of my age. Mule is smiling as we park the truck and get out. He likes this place and looks forward to coming. That’s fine for Mule. It’s just not my cup of tea.

“I’m a gonna git lucky tonight!” Mule announces. His pace quickens until he’s practically jogging toward the door. He leaves the sack of beer in my truck. I would have preferred money. There are two men sitting in lawn chairs off to the side, smoking a cigarette and minding a big steel smoker.

The Last Call isn’t licensed to sell food, something about the health department not willing to license them because of safety concerns. Looking at these two guys, I long for the restaurants where you don’t have to see the cooks.

Both of these guys look rough. They have heavy beards and eyes that can pierce right through a person. I know one of the guys, a veteran who went through Vietnam and came home a changed man. When he was sober, you would never find a better person. But if the man’s drinking, you don’t want to irritate him.

I wave at them as I cross by. The smell from the smoker is good. If I wasn’t stuffed, the ribs would hit the spot. But I’m not hungry and it always worries me what they put in the barbeque sauce.

Both men are heavyset with long, grey hair and ZZ Top beards. Their overalls are faded and need replaced.

The other man glares at me. He doesn’t know me and obviously is not fond of strangers. I’m with Mule, not that it improves my social status in the eyes of many.

I remember the other guy’s name, the one that I know. It is Gene Long. His sister and I were the same age and took many classes together. They come from a good family and Gene’s a good guy, just one that you really don’t want to anger.

Gene finally waves back and whispers something to the other man, who nods and turns his attention to the smoker and the fifth of whiskey on the ground. He picks the bottle up and pours it into a drink.

My pace slows as I near the door. I don’t want to be here. I’ve met my quota on bar appearances for my life and don’t want to go in any more. Especially on Sunday, I believe the Sabbath should be a day where a person can forego the bars.

There’s a nasty-looking woman at the back door. Her hair is at least six different colors. I believe red is the main theme, but I’m not real sure. She is wearing a sleeveless shirt, revealing large tattoos on both arms. One of them is some guy on what looks to be a Harley. The other is a name that I can’t read or want to find out.

The woman is too skinny. I decide she is either a crankhead now or was one in the past. People don’t get this skinny at her age without putting some heavy stuff in her system. I can see the outline of every bone in her face, not that I want to. Her eyes are like sunken pits with a look of evil in them. The woman’s jeans are still tight and have slits on both sides, revealing skin that doesn’t do anything for me.

She is staring at me, making me feel uncomfortable. I decide her life would be an interesting story, one that somebody else would have to write. I don’t care to know anything else about her.

Mule walks right past her. I notice that she checks out his rear as he walks into The Last Call. She smiles and licks her bottom lip. I want to vomit in a bad way.

The woman climbs up on a stool. I guess she’s the lookout for all things that aren’t supposed to be here, like cops and Baptists. Apparently, she does not like my looks. Good, I’m not too fond of her appearance, either.

“Got some idée?” she asks, putting her leg across the door to block my path. The leg is so skinny, it almost looks like a toothpick.

I’m in a sarcastic mood. The woman is doing her job, but I feel like this authority thing has probably gone to her head.

“Yes, I do,” I answer, standing at the door, wondering how hard it would be to snap her leg in two parts. I didn’t really want to do that, it was just one of those strange thoughts a person has.

“Lemme see it.”

“What?”

“Some identification.”

“Why?”

The questions were confusing her. I could see that she wasn’t used to this. She looked around for a second then leaned toward me. I saw that her teeth looked fake, not that it surprised me. I doubted she was a person who did the six-month cleaning thing at the dentist.

“Cause I says so,” she continued.

Squiggy must have seen that I was having trouble getting in. I would have preferred that the lady didn’t let me in. He strolled up, carrying a pitcher of beer and drinking out of it. I saw that he had foam all over his mouth.

“Hey Slick, let im in,” he said. The woman nodded. I had no idea where the name came from. My mind started going through the possibilities. There was one that stuck out and it was something that really bothered me.

Slick dropped her leg. She sat on the stool with her legs spread wide open. Not real lady like, I thought, rather appropriate for Slick, or whatever her name was. I hoped she wasn’t checking out my rear as I walked in. I, for one, shall not be a sex object for some crankhead.

Mule was at the bar, getting him a pitcher of beer. I saw that Big Uns had a pitcher, also. Good, we’ll have three pitchers of beer at the table. Never want to risk running out of warm beer, did we? I slowly made my way across the bar to where she was sitting. Big Uns appeared to be one big insect bite on her face. It was swollen and scratched. As if on cue, she got after a bite on her left chin. Big Uns went after it with a fury, leaving lines on her face from scratching with her fake nails.

She saw me and smiled. I tried not to groan loud. Her shirt was another low cut, like that was a surprise. This one was white and I was relieved to see that there was the outline of a bra.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Much better now,” she replied, still smiling. I was getting hit on by Squiggy’s woman! Would the nightmares ever cease? “You look awful good tonight, honey.”

I had to step back. She called me “honey”? I groaned and didn’t care if she did hear me.

“Uh, thank you,” I responded, and sat down on the chair farthest away from her. The table was high, as were the chairs, better to help you look into the face of whoever was trying to ask you to dance, I guess. “How’d you sleep last night?”

Her smile disappeared. I had hit a touchy subject. She must not have liked sleeping in the back of Squiggy’s truck with Psycho and the mosquitos. Big Uns grabbed her pitcher with her manly hand and the fake nails that were a good half inch long, and took a big swig. I could see the level of the beer drop. It was amazing to see, in sort of a sad way.

Mule set his pitcher on the table. Big Uns was still gulping from her pitcher. A small river of beer was flowing out of the corner of her mouth and down to her shirt. Mule watched it and looked like he wouldn’t mind licking it up. Not in a sexual way, I just don’t think Mule liked to see beer wasted.

“Here, I gots youse a Coke,” he said and put a plastic cup in front of me. I should have been suspicious.

“It is a Coke?” I asked. He nodded and I took a sip. Yep, it was a Coke. Squiggy came and sat down. He had almost emptied his pitcher during the walk from the door to the table. Squiggy exchanged a look with Mule. They both smiled.

“Go git me a beer, Big Uns,” Squiggy demanded.

“Git yer own beer,” she fired back. I must have got Big Uns all fired up with the sleeping comment. “And stop a callin me that! Use my name!”

Squiggy looked lost. I realized that he didn’t have a clue what her real name was. So did Mule, as he giggled.

“What’s so dern funny?” she asked, grabbed her purse and tried to hit Mule with it. He grabbed it before the purse could hit him. Big Uns was dragged into Mule and banged him with one of her bosoms. It had enough force to almost knock Mule off his chair.

I could tell that Mule liked it. That also didn’t surprise me.

The people were starting to flock in. It was a wide assortment of people. There were some that looked normal and others that needed to be sent back to the deep woods where they came. Several people dropped by to exchange some small talk. I tried to ignore them. I didn’t know them and failed to put out any effort to buddy up.

There was a waitress that kept coming by every few minutes. She was a short thing that looked like a block. The waitress had lived a hard life and showed it. She had her blonde hair back in a ponytail. Her shirt actually advertised The Last Call. I doubted they sold many of those, until I saw several people proudly wearing them. Her shorts were too tight, revealing a wedgie every time she turned away.

The waitress was determined not to let my drink get emptied. Every time I made some progress, she grabbed it and left to fill it up. That seemed a little odd, but I decided it must just be good service.

Squiggy and Big Uns made up and were soon kissing every few minutes. There appeared to be something going on under the table that I definitely did not want to see or find out about. Mule was staring at Big Uns’ breasts. Since she had slammed him with one of them, he seemed to have a new appreciation for the monsters.

I had started to loosen up. I was starting to relax and actually enjoy myself. Somebody tapped on my shoulder and I turned around. It was a woman standing behind me. I never really knew ugly until that moment. I got a new appreciation for the word.

She was hideous, easily the most unattractive person I had ever seen. Her eyebrows were long and bushy. She had a nose that looked like it had been smashed at one time. Her cheekbones seemed to be too high and big. Her lips were too small, almost nonexistent. She scared me and I jumped back. The woman wasn’t offended, apparently this happened to her frequently.

“Wanna dance?” she asked.

I shook my head. No, I didn’t turn her down just because she was “butt ugly”, a term that Mule had earlier used to describe somebody. I just didn’t like to dance. Every time somebody talked me into getting out on the dance floor, I felt like an idiot.

The woman walked away, looking for other innocent males.

“Man, she was a hurting,” I commented.

Big Uns was not amused. She glared at me and grabbed her pitcher. I realized that she was about to toss the beer on me just before Squiggy grabbed her hand.

“That’s my sissy!” she declared.

“What the crap is a ‘sissy’?” I asked. Where did that come from? I usually tried to not use the word “crap”.

“She’s my sister!” Big Uns fired back.

“Well, you got an ugly sister.”

Squiggy and Mule snorted up some beer, a lot of it from their nostrils. They didn’t expect to hear that from me. I didn’t expect to say it, either. I realized that I shouldn’t tell Big Uns that her sister was ugly, but felt powerless to stop.

“Yeah, but she’s got a nice body!” she retorted.

I had to check it out. Yeah, her sister did have a nice body.

“Tell her to put a sack over her head and I’ll think about it.”

Big Uns was speechless. She looked at Mule and Squiggy, who were looking off into the corners of the bar.

“You didn’t?” she asked.

Neither one of them answered. I was curious about what she was talking about, but more concerned with getting a drink. This was the best-tasting Coke I had ever drunk.

The little waitress kept making sure my Coke was filled. I was starting to think she was a princess because of her kindness and despite her wedginess.

“Them hickies on yer boobies are ugly,” Mule mentioned. So that was why he kept staring at her.

That offended Big Uns and she went off in search of moral support.

“Sorry, Squiggy,” he added.

“Is okay, she was a gittin on my nerve,” Squiggy said. He looked around the bar, then smiled. “Y’all wanna have a hog contest?”

Mule was nodding and smiling. He acted like a kid who was just asked if they were ready to open their Christmas presents.

“What’s a ‘hog contest’?” I asked. They both looked at me like I was stupid.

“Don’t say it so dern loud,” he ordered. “We’s go git the biggest, fattest woman in here to dance wif us. After the song ends, we figger out who won.”

“Why would we want to dance with the fat women?” I asked.

“It’s fun,” Squiggy retorted. Mule nodded his head in support.

I shrugged. For some strange reason, dancing didn't seem like a bad idea, even if it was with large women.

“I like it!” Mule added. I believed him. This was right up his alley.

Squiggy took off in search of large women to dance with him. Mule was right behind him. I turned around and looked for somebody to dance with. There were a lot of big women in The Last Call. Many of them were with guys. I had just about given up when I found one. I walked over, asked her to dance and she acted like that was the kindest thing anybody had ever done for her.

The six of us were the only people out on the dance floor. Squiggy had one that looked like a rhino, easily the largest rear end I have ever seen on a woman. She kept shaking her rear, making it look like waves crashing into a beach.

Mule’s catch wasn’t any better. She was almost as tall as him and looked twice as mean. The woman was large, but not nearly as bad as Squiggy’s partner. I saw Squiggy put his hand on the woman’s tush and started laughing.

“What’re ya laughin at?” my dance partner asked. I pointed. She was smiling until then.

“Dance wif me, big woman!” Mule hollered. I looked around to see if anybody was watching us. Nobody seemed to care.

The song ended and we left the dance floor. Normally, I would have been relieved but I had enjoyed it. Squiggy came up behind me and pushed me.

“How come you was dancing wif Big Uns?” he asked. “She ain’t no hog!”

I laughed and walked away. He seemed almost as mad as she was after seeing his hand on the rhino’s rear.

We sat back down at our table. My drink was half gone. That was not acceptable. I saw the waitress walking toward us.

“How bout another drink, cutie?” I asked. She smiled back, but I got the vibes that she didn’t enjoy being called that. I started wondering what was wrong with me. Why would I call her “cutie”? Or actually dance with Big Uns?

Squiggy and Mule appeared to be having a contest to see who could drink a pitcher the fastest. My eyes were starting to get a little blurred. Big Uns’ sister came to our table. Man, she didn’t look nearly as bad now.

“Hey baby,” I said and got a smile in return. I almost saw some lip. “What’s your name?”

“Amber!” she answered, with way too much excitement. “What’s yer name?”

“Slim,” I answered.

“Nice to meet ya, Slim,” she exclaimed and held out her hand. Squiggy and Mule were staring at me. “What’s yer last name?”

“Pickens,” I answered. “We hug from where I’m from, little missy.”

She gladly accepted the hug, even hung on after I let go.

“Nice to meet ya, Slim Pickens!” she exclaimed. “I gotta go to the bathroom and I’ll be right back!”

“Hold on there a second,” I said, and grabbed her arm. “Would that be for a one or a two?”

My gosh, I was asking her what she was going to do in the bathroom! What was wrong with me?

She giggled, and looked around the table. They seemed to be interested also.

“I gotta wee,” she answered. I had never seen anything so cute in my life.

The waitress brought my Coke back. Man, I had been missing that.

“Boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” I told her. She started to walk off. “Hold up!”

She turned around to look at me.

“How about a hug?” I asked, holding my arms out.

“I think you need to stop hugging that drink so much,” she answered.

I frowned. That wasn’t what I was wanting from her. Besides, what was she talking about? I thought about it for a second, looked at the drink and realized something was amiss.

“Hey, what’s wrong with me?” I asked.

Squiggy and Mule were looking around, acting like they hadn’t heard me. I had a pretty good idea why I was feeling this way.

“You guys have been putting stuff in my drink!” I stated.

“Naw, it’s the bartender,” Mule added.

I started to get mad, but was too happy.

“Okay,” I stated. The woman was heading back in our direction. She was smiling, I could tell even without seeing her lips. There was a briskness in her pace that wasn’t there earlier. She stopped beside me and put her hand on my shoulder.

“Miss me?” she asked.

“Not really,” I answered, without thinking.

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She left in a huff. I didn’t care. There was some cowgirl over by the dance floor that was one hot filly. Squiggy and Mule started getting excited about something.

“There he is!” Mule exclaimed. I had not seen him this excited before.

“Gosh!” Squiggy added.

I turned around to see what had them so excited. All I saw were two little cowboys walking toward us.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

Squiggy looked at me like I was retarded.

“That’s B.J. Woods!” he said.

“Who?”

“You ain’t never heard of B.J.?”

“I’ve heard of them, but not him.”

“Man, he’s like a legend! He’s been busted for drunk drivin twenty five times!”

I never knew that was something to brag about. His butt ought to be in prison.

The two little cowboys came and stood by our table. I decided B.J. was the one who had the fake smile permanently attached to his face. They both wore cowboy hats, colorful shirts and Wranglers that were both tight and appeared to have been ironed before they honored The Last Call with their presence.

B.J. looked harmless, unless you were driving down the road, I guess. The other one had those angry eyes. He kept looking around for somebody to hit or something.

“Hey guys,” the drunk driver said.

Squiggy and Mule acted like they felt honored to have B.J. stop by our table.

“This here’s R.D.,” he announced. The other little cowboy nodded. He had such an angry look and eyes that could slice a hole in you.

“Is your name ‘B.J.’?” I asked.

He nodded, still smiling.

“You know what that stands for?’

He looked clueless. I noticed a little of his smile had faded.

“Brian Joseph,” he answered.

“How come you’re not in jail?” I asked.

The smile was gone now. His partner was looking evil at me.

“I gotta good lawyer,” he answered.

“You must,” I told him. “What’s up with the initials?”

Squiggy and Mule were trying to get me to settle down. Heck, I didn’t care what these two little guys thought.

“Nothing, that’s just our names,” B.J. countered. He was definitely not smiling now. Neither was his buddy.

“You guys real rootin-tootin cowboys?” I asked. “Like, you know, ride horses and step in cow poop?”

“I ride horses,” B.J. said. The other one was quiet.

Amber came walking up to us. She saw we had visitors and stopped in her tracks.

“There she is!” I hollered. “Come over here, little missy!”

“Who ya talking to?” the angry cowboy said.

“The ugly chick.”

He looked over at Amber, then back at me.

“You talking bout my girl?”

I looked at Amber. She was waving her hands at me, trying to get me to shut up.

“She ain’t yer girl,” I proclaimed. “She likes me.”

That was it for me for the evening. The next thing I saw was a flash of white and felt myself getting knocked back off the chair and falling. I seemed to fall forever.

Chapter 36