Friday, July 9, 2010

Wasting Away Again In Miserytaville

I don't know how long I wandered, lost in the fog, or at least a fog of battle.
A battle for my sanity. A battle that felt like the hordes of hell itself had pitted itself agin me.

The enemy was coming, wave after wave, and I was scramblin' to find some more ammo. My body was writin' checks my adrenaline could no longer cash.
Mostly because I was plumb outta arenaline. I passed battle weary so long ago I could no longer remember with any degree of clarity what it was like to not be attacked.

Back to a time of blissful peace, whence I had no idea that the endless (or seemingly endless, as I'm sure there is an end, although I can't yet see it) ranks of pain n' misery were amassing just beyond my horrorizon, all with one goal in mind...MY mind: destroy Ben at any cost.

No, they ain't defeated me yet, but I have no idea how long I can endure this onslaught.
Each step is torturous, every movement burns as my muscles protest loudly, "hell no, we won't go!"
I make 'em go anyway, 'cause I know I can't afford to lose this battle. But even my will is gettin' weary.

Pain n' misery are patient. They know I'm slowin' down, and like a pack of hyenas they prowl my perimeter, sendin' in their lackey's to use up what little energy I have left and no doubt tellin' their commanders, despair n' hopelessness, the battle is almost won.

I curse under my breath at those hyenas from hell, and at the same time I pray for grace...His grace.
Where are my reinforcements Father?

Over there...I see a fifty caliber machine gun, all set up and ready to go. I run for it, my six guns blazin'.
Before I get there a heavy fog closes in, until visibilty is zero.

Damnit! What now?

As quietly as I can I reload my six guns. I can hear the enemy searchin' for me. Growlin'. Sniffin'.

Up ahead in the distance I see...a sign? What the hell?


Now there's somethin' you don't see everyday. Wel hell, might as well check it out.

I entered the bar, more like a dive, really. It was dark n' smoky inside. There was a few burly customers sittin' at the bar, an old man, and a few younger fellas playin' pool at the lone pool table.

I sat down on the bar stool. Man it feels good to take a load off!

"What'll it be?" The bartender asked.

Hmm, he looks familiar, but I can't place his face to a name.

"Somethin' cold n' wet," I replied.

"I have just the thing," he said, laughin'.

Why is he laughin'? I wondered.

The laughter wasn't malicious at all, but it felt...out of place.

"That's a...." I began to say.

"Yep. A miseryta," Mister Bartender said, smilin'.

"Doncha mean a margarita?" I asked.

"Nope. Ya see, it seems someone lost the shaker of salt," he said.

"I...see," I replied, not really seeing at all.

I tasted the frozen concoction and it was a bit on the bitter side.
Not too bad, but it definitely needed some salt.
All of a sudden I realized I needed some salt in a bad way. My body cried out for it and my taste buds demanded it!

"So, where was the salt last seen?" I asked.

"Hell...if I know," the Bartender replied, snickering.

"What, so you don't know?" I asked, puzzled.

The bartender smiled and shrugged.

Great, I thought, lightin' up a smoke.

"Those will kill you," the burly guy to my right said.

"When?" I asked.

The bartender and Old Man laughed. The other customers simply stared at me.

"You look like you been in a war," the Bartender said, gazing at me.

"Yeah. The war that time forgot," I replied.



"Poetic," he said, nodding.

"Funny," the Old Man said.

"Weird," the burly guy to my right said.

"Yeah," I said, takin' a drag from my smoke.

A restroom door opened and a gorgeous dame entered the dive. Everyone, includin' me stared at her as she walked slowly to the bar, hips swayin', long dark hair flowin'.
She was wearin' a black dress...short, but not too short. Short enough I mused, pryin' my eyes away from her alabaster legs (and her chest, and her face...actually, her entire body).

Don't be rude, I thought, lookin' down at my drink.

"May I sit here?"

I practically jumped outta my seat as she whispered in my ear and touched my arm!
Her touch and her voice was like a bolt of lightnin', but not the hurtin' kind.

"Huh? Wha?" I sputtered, quickly rising to my feet.

"No, no. Please, don't get up on my account. I just want to know if this seat is taken," she said, again, lightly touching my arm.

"Um...a...yeah, yes, of course!" I exclaimed, forgetting how to talk.

I attempted to pull the bar stool back until it dawned on me it was attached to the deck.
I could feel my face turnin' red as I took a few steps back.

"Thank you," she said, extending her delicate right hand in a very feminine way. "Mister?"

"Oh, um, Ben. I'm Ben," I said, taking her hand and shaking it slightly.

"I like that name. I'm Annie," she replied.

Reluctantly I let her hand go, but she held on a noticeable second longer and smiled.

"Annie is a good name," I said.

I can get lost in that smile, I thought.

"Look, here it is," the old man to my left said, joltin' me out of my trance, holdin' up a shaker of salt.

"Thanks," I said, getting up to go get it.

Out of the corner of my eye the bartender shook his head. What's his problem?

"Whoa whoa!" The old man exclaimed, pullin' the shaker back as if to protect it. "What'll you give me for it?"

"What?" I answered.

"What's it worth to you sonny?" The old man asked, grinnin' from ear to ear.

"You want me to pay for it?" I asked, tryin' to make sense of the guy.

"Boy, you catch on fast, doncha?" The old man said, his eyes flashin'.

"Okay, what do you want for it?" I asked, playin' along.

"You think I'm playing?" The old man asked, his smile turnin' into a snarl. "'Cause I ain't playin'!"

"Oookaayy," I said, slowly, confused. What's this guy's angle?

"Tell me about the war that time forgot...tell me the details, and then we can talk salt," the Old Man said dramatically.

"Why don't you leave him alone!" Annie shouted, walking over next to me.

"It's up to him," the Bartender said, waving a finger at Annie.

"But he doesn't know," Annie replied.

"Don't matter," the Bartender said shaking his head. "Do not overstep your bounds," he warned.

Annie started to say something but stopped herself, then she closed her eyes.

What in the world? I wondered, looking at her.

Time stood still, as everyone waited for my answer. All eyes were on me. Except for Annie's which were closed.

"Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know, it's my own damn fault."

The juke box blared.

Fitting song, I thought, as I searched my soul.

3 comments:

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

Hi guys!
Sorry about the detour, but I was compelled to write this story, which is part dream but still true nonetheless.
A bit different, I know.

For any of you "Chuck" fans, I "flashed" on the first pic and this is the result.
My apologies for not havin' the time to finish it, but it will be done soon if I have anything to say about it. :^)

I'll return to the other story asap or posthaste, whichever's faster.

julie said...

wv says this bar is open to all comers, which I guess is accurate enough.

This may be different, but obviously still true. And eery. Don't rush back to the other story on our account; seems to me we have to speak these things when they're darn good and ready. Too soon, and they come out all wrong. imho.

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

Thanks Julie!

I've been wanting to write some of my dreamstuff for awhile, so when I was compelled to write this it meshed together well, as far as the writing part that is.

Hopefully it's vague enough to grok. This is kinda new territory for me. :^)