A Bush Wlak

Remember what happened last night? Good. Now tell the world.

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The Urbane Spaceman
Super Drunkard
Super Drunkard
Posts: 192
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 5:18 pm

A Bush Wlak

Post by The Urbane Spaceman »

Pour a DRINK. Let’s crank this bitch.


Three men, up to no good. The one in the middle jostled along, held up by the other two. The warm night air gusted the scent of stripper lotion and cigarette smoke from their tattered jackets.

One of these men reached into his coat and pulled out the key fob to their ride. Some miscreant put it there during his inebriation, and now he was undrunk enough to remember. Bourbon awaited. It beckoned; a siren song in the night.

Burney lit a cig and Lump took an extra-long stride, almost falling down again. He pulled on the other one, who dropped the key fob and kicked it into the bushes.

He said, “Jeebus Crisco you bastards! Get your shit together!”

The other two straightened up a bit, and the third man dug around in the damp wood chips to find the fob. His fingers came back smelling like grey water and poo.


He bleeped the car and saw it flash its lights off near the edge of the parking lot. Burney looked over and said, “Holy sit, Urb. That’s where it was all along.”

Urb muttered, “That was the idea. Hide it from ourselves until we could drive it. But we came form that place over there. That place sells booze. We’ll just walk over to it.”


Burney said, “I could use a drink.”

Lump said, “Flargg Byeearcch” and threw up on his shirt.


Burney said, “Oh for shit’s sake, you asshole. Why’d you go and do that?”

Urb said, “He’ll have to go in your car, Burney.”


Burney said, “No friggin way. He’ll probably piss and shit himself.”

Urb said, “So? You got the full protection on that rental, didn’t you?”


Burney said, “Yeah, but who wants to smell that crap when we drive around?”
Urb said, “You could call him a taxi and send him back to the conference hotel.”


Burney said, “You do it Urb. I ain’t his babysitter.”

Urb took out his busted cell phone and gimballed it about. Its fractured face resembled a wizened man’s grizzled visage.


Burney’s eyes went wide. “When did that happen?”

Urb said, “I think when we got here. Look.” He pointed at the ground and there was a scattering of glass dust sparkling beneath the nearest lamp post along the walkway. To the side was a bush with colorful vomitus sprayed atop.


Burney said, “Who Jackson Pollocked that bush? Me?”

Urb shook his head. “Nope, one more guess.”


Burney shook his head as we staggered by. “I told him not to eat all those edibles. Look, some of the yellow and pink ones aren’t even chewed.”

Lump opened his eyes and made a grab to get some of them from the bush. Burney smacked his hand down and said, “You fucking pig bastard. Urrrrp!” He made gagging and coughing noises.

Urb stopped and put Lump’s hand on the lamp post. He said, “I’ll fetch the car. It’ll be much easier for us.”

Burney said, “Let’s just take this frigging asshole back and go form there.”

Lump said, “Naw. I ain’t bailing on you guys. I don’t wanna go home.” He began to sniffle, his face cinched up like a sad knot.

Executive decisions are made when there is no other reasonable choice. Urb decided to lie to Lump. “All right then. Let’s go find another fun place. I’ll get the car and drive us.”

He walked across the lot in the manner that a drunk person does when they want to appear undrunk. All stiff, still staggering, readjusting his course and his tie along the way. He rubbed his face and found that his damp hand smelled like the city’s sprinkler crap-water. Then that was all he smelled. His stomach quivered, but he grimaced and held his resolve together like a man. Burney had hand sanitizer in his car. Time for a face wash.

He opened the door remotely and the car lit up like an amusement ride. The radio played music, the AC hummed, and the seat warmed up. He slid into the car like a condom, and reached down into the side pocket of the door. There, he found the pint of hand sanitizer. He dumped some into his hands and rubbed them all about and wiped them on the upholstery of the passenger seat. Then he poured more into his hands and attended to his face. His got some into his eyes and it burned. He growled and used his lapels to wipe it out.
Damn. His eyes teared up and his vision was blurry. There was only one thing he could do, so he uncapped the sanitizer and poured a thick mouthful of it into his mouth and swallowed. It gave him a delightful burn in his gullet, but the chemical flavor of it became too much and he coughed hard and loud. Microsan.

A bit of his stomach contents spittled onto the wind screen and steering wheel. He turned on the windshield wipers and then began to laugh. He laughed so hard he almost pissed himself. What a crew the three gentlemen were. Almost a shame that no one would ever know what trouble would befall them next. It would make for a great post card.
He reached into the rear seat and found a shirt, and wiped the wind screen with that. It smeared it, but then dried, leaving specks of spinach. Good enough. Healthy, actually.

He buckled up and put the vehicle into Drive, glancing across the parking lot towards the other two. There they sat, on the curb beneath the lamp post. One leaned diagonally against the other. They were a bit hazy from his bleary eyes. In his rearview mirror, he caught movement. Something was behind the vehicle. He checked that the doors were locked, and of course, they were. That is what happens when Drive is engaged. It unnerved him. He didn’t want to have an unwelcomed passenger, and his cohorts were in a very vulnerable positon. He put the car in reverse and drove in reverse for a couple feet. The movement didn’t stop. He drove back further and hit the edge of a curb and ran into a bush, waving in the breeze.

What had he been thinking? He could have hurt an innocent person. He put the car into Drive again, and as he did, the bottom of the vehicle made nasty grinding noise. He gunned the engine and the wheels all spun; the rear ones making rooster tails from the wood chips and mud into the air.

The vehicle screeched off from the high curb and then there was the loud sound of a pop. Something had come loose from the car. He got out to see what it was. There in the dirt between the wheel ruts he’d made was the rear plastic bumper. He went and opened up the trunk and then bent the bumper and stuffed it into the trunk. The license plate reflected back to him under the trunk lamp.
Damn.

He got all settled in and drove over to the other two.

As he pulled up, Burney rolled over onto his knees and Lump fell sideways onto the walkway, snoozing. Burney said, “What the fuck was all that out there?”

Urb said, “Nothing. Thought I’d killed someone. But they would’ve deserved it. I think I killed a bush.”


Burney said, “Oh. Well, I think Lump killed those bushes over there behind us. Or got them very high. You ready?”

Urb nodded and said, “Let’s get this fat bastard into the back seat and get the hell out of here quick.”

That was much easier said than done. A passed-out drunk man is worse to move than a dead man because they will fight back. But the adrenaline from killing shrubbery will awaken a drunk man.

They dragged/wrestled Lump over and up into the rear seat of the car and tried to buckle him in, but gave up. He rolled over on his side and went back to sleep.

At that moment, it seemed like a really good idea to escape to the safety of the hotel. But is also seemed like their problem was solved, and that the night should continue.

Huh.


---Urb Out.

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