If you have been following this blog for any length of time, you have undoubtedly been both shocked and delighted by one of our most prolific and talented contributors, Louis P. Jaennette
Seems he’s decided to write a book!! Here is a small excerpt, EXCLUSIVE to this space, a preview that may be competely different by the time it’s printed:-) Comments are most welcome. Enjoy!
I walked Frankie’s bike into the bar and leaned it on a wall by the door. The bathroom door was locked. I knocked: “Hellooo..?”
A chunky Latina barmaid leaned over the bar.
“Bathroom for customers only.”
I walked to the bar: “Gimme four shots of tequila.”
“That’ll be seventeen fifty.”
She popped her gum. “You got any money?”
“I’ve got that bike.”
“You wanna trade that bike for four shots of tequila?”
“Eight shots of Cuervo.”
She appraised the bike quickly. “Okay.”
She lined up eight shot glasses and filled them with Cuervo. I shot one down.
I shot another one down. “Hair of the DAWG!”
People were looking. I pounded two more. The fifth shot stayed in my windpipe awhile. Some of it wound up in my lungs I’m sure, but I got it down. It was time to take that shit.
“Key to the restroom, please.”
She gave me a key. It was attached to a mini club of some kind. I wondered momentarily about all the hands it had been in.
The bathroom smelled like piss, stale beer piss, but there was a latch on the inside and with the key in my hand I felt secure. I put both hands on my ass cheeks and spread them apart, then set them down on the pot. My butthole was an instant fire hose, blasting away with gaseous pressure. I heard someone brush against the door.
“Ocupado,” I said in a singsong voice.
No reply. I could sense someone out there.
“I’ll be a minute,” I said.
Silence. I could feel the heat from the Cuervo rising up in me. The Valiums added a touch of the surreal.
“Hey, shitbird. Get away from the door. I’ve gotta shit like a grown man.”
Once again I could sense a rustling.
“Beat it now, pervert!”
I’d had enough. I was pissed off now. I looked over to see an empty spool of toilet paper. The paper towel dispenser was empty. My ears burned with anger.
“I want my money back!”
The bathroom echoed with rage. I grabbed a handful of those paper covers for the toilet seat and swiped them through my ass. It was a mess. I grabbed another handful and ran it under the water in the sink. I made some progress there. I kept at it until all the toilet seat covers were gone.
The toilet wouldn’t flush. All those seat covers just plugged up the toilet and brown water spilled onto the floor. I stumbled out and looked around. Nobody was looking at me. I felt very drunk suddenly. I lurched to the bar and looked at my drinks. One of them had been fucked with.
“Hey! Who spit in my vodka? Who? Huh? Huh??”
I could see myself down there in the bar. I could hear myself saying things that didn’t make sense. I was riding something and couldn’t get off.
“I’m not asking for details! Just give me a clue!”
I pounded a shot.
“Who’s the shithound? Where is he?”
I couldn’t stop.
“Go look at the toilet!” I was yelling at no one in particular.
Someone yelled back. “You go look in the toilet.”
The whole bar erupted in laughter. I grabbed someone and rammed my head into his nose. Someone screamed. I was crawling now, behind the bar. I had the bike and I swung up into the saddle and crashed headfirst into smelly, sticky bottles everywhere, and people stomping me.