Ernie and Jeb walked, or more accurately, shook their way down the crowded
main drag. There were shoppers everywhere scurrying about trying to do
this and that. Ernie tried walking on his own; almost falling on his
face for the third time that day. He leaned over, holding up as
much of his weight as his own alcohol-ridden legs could take, and
supporting the rest of his weight on Jeb's shoulder. The weight was
taking it's toll... Jeb's knees shook and rattled as they went along.
Jeb's face lighted up with the sight of one of his favorite hangouts:
Blues. Blues was a different type of bar... or well... the atmosphere in
the place was different. The bar felt smotheringly dark, not evil, or
dangerous, just... brooding... gothic. This was not where the young, party
crowd hung out... and both Ernie and Jeb liked that!
"By the way, how much green you got?" Jeb inquired.
"Shit!" thought Ernie. "Here I am, just got paid yesterday, and already
he's moochin' booze offa' me."
He soon thought better though, realizing that drinking by yourself just
ain't no fun... unless you'd had a real bad day like last night...
Last night, damn what a night. Since he'd been working that security job,
Ernie had never had such a bad night. Hell, first there was that mangy
dog; scared the shit out of him. He heard scratching, walked out in front
of the building to see what was up and the animal jumped on him. Then he
found that note in his desk telling him he was gonna' hafta' buy some new
clothes and quit coming to work half drunk if he wanted to keep his job.
That really pissed him off... how dare they treat him that way. After
all, it's not like they were the best of employers or anything. He was
only getting paid a couple of bucks over minimum wage, on a short shift,
and the closest thing to health insurance he had was that time the boss
had bought him a beer when he had the flu!
"I says, how much green you got!" said Jeb.
"Ahh, got paid yesterday... twenty... thirty dollars... to spare." ernie
slurred, shaking himself a bit to get last night out of his head.
"That's good whites!" Jeb always called him "Whites" or "Big E." "Real
good. Now you go in there and get us a couple shots of red eye. Make
sure it's not that clear shit. Brown liquor all the way man, liquor all
the way!" Jeb said, pronouncing liquor, lick-her.
The two of them wobbled through the open front door and made their way to
the counter.
The bar was pretty dead. There were only a couple of customers... most of
them pretty toasted for that early in the day. Ol' Lou was standing
behind the counter engaged in a heated conversation on the telephone.
"Just the way I like it Big E... Barren as my belly!" said Jeb.
Lou finished his call mumbling something about a deviant shithead and
walked over to the counter. "Hullo old boys! What can I get you today?"
"Lou, how about a round of Jimmy Beany. Me and Jeb got a powerful thirst."
Lou passed out the drinks... kept on passing out the drinks... drink after
drink after drink. One round... two rounds... three rounds...
"Jeb, I'm broke ol' pal." I said, fumbling around, trying to find any
spare bills hidden anywhere.
"What you lookin' at me for? You... you's know damn well I ain't got any
dime!" Jeb whined.