Join Date: August 9, 2007
Location: Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
As the burly waiter threw me out the back exit of the Rusty Trumpet and into the adjacent ally I got a great view of my now ex-girlfriend kissing one of the chefs; a greasy looking prick that probably made a sport of stealing girls away from the men who worked so hard to woo them. Well, that's the last I'll be seeing of her, was my thought as I careened into a pile of moldy, empty boxes. Ow. Scratch that. What I actually meant to say was â€˜mostly empty boxesâ€™, because apparently one of them was fully of bottles, all of which were now in tiny shards that were now embedded in my back. I looked up and saw the rainy sky through the rusty grating of the fire escape that I had landed beneath. I figured it was time to get up and brush myself off and get up. So I did.
As I walked toward the busy street ahead of me I heard this wheezy cackle coming from the direction of the dumpster I was passing. The source of the gurgling was coming from some old bum. He had on a pair of flip-flops with mismatched socks, some ratty old khaki pants, and a suspiciously unsullied looking trench coat over a sweat-stained wife-beater.
â€œHah, kid, today ainâ€™t your night,â€ quipped the old bastard, â€œNow is it?â€ As he said this I was given another opportunity to get a glance at his yellowed teeth, an image that I would be storing in my mind for occasions when I was feeling too lazy to brush. â€œShut up, old man,â€ I audibly mumbled, â€œJust shut the Hell up.â€ He started up with that abrasive laughter again; I wouldnâ€™t have it. I quickly strode toward him and delivered a swift kick to his ribs. Letting out a dull moan he keeled over. Gasping desperately he whined, â€œDonâ€™t hurt me! Donâ€™t hurt me! I didnâ€™t mean nothinâ€™ by it!â€
I had wound my foot back in order to give him another powerful kick, but I decided otherwise. â€œYeah,â€ I said to him, turning away and walking towards the street, â€œSure you didnâ€™t.â€ But just as I finished saying this he started up again. â€œYou got what you deserved in there,â€ muttered the old bastard, â€œAnd, God help me if that werenâ€™t the last of it!â€ That was it, I though, this old man was gonna get it. I knelt down and picked up an old bottle. â€œHave a drink, you old fuck!â€ But, it was too late.
The liquor bottle shattered against the lonely wall that the old fool had been lying up against. He was nowhere to be seen. I stood there, wide eyed, staring into the dark chasm that the alley had become. Where the light from the street stopped penetrating the alleyway a deep shadow had now settled, a shadow that was now staring back at me. A look of apprehensive horror was now upon my face as I gazed into the darkness. Not only was the darkness filling me with terror, but I could also hear a scrapping, a terrible dragging noise which filled me with the desire to flee; yet, I stood there, witless, unable to move.
There he was. A figure, a figure out in the dense, inky night crept toward me, dragging behind it a thick lumpy mass. Tremors shot through my legs and I feel to my knees buckle beneath me. Unable to blink, I was now gasping as the figure closed in. then suddenly it shouted out at me, â€œHey, you lookinâ€™ for me to kick your ass again, you little piece of shit?â€
It was him, that stupid fuck from the kitchen. â€œAre you deaf,â€ he bellowed, â€œGet the fuck outta here before I kick ya the fuck outta here!â€ I picked up another bottle off the ground and chucked it at his thick skull. The look on his face when he went down was priceless: somewhere in between the state of shock you go into when your girlfriend tells you she might be pregnant and the state of confusion you enter when she says that it might not be yours. He had dropped the garbage bag and the bin heâ€™d been dragging behind him and was now sprawled out on the pavement, still conscious. â€œHey, buddy,â€ I told, â€œDo yourself a favor and go get your GEDâ€
And with that I turned away and started heading towards the street. Turning around the corner and passing in front of the Rusty Trumpet I lit up a cigarette and looked into the window. From there, I got a great view of that greasy, woman-stealing cook slapping my now ex-girlfriend across the face. I laughed. I guess the Rusty Trumpet is a great place to eat so long as you don't want to have your cake and eat it too. Just desserts, I guess.