Patton Lee Beaugus | December 21, 2010 12:45pmI Couldn't Think Straight
It was starting to snow a little more heavily as I stumbled down 9th Avenue. It looked a lot like the real 9th, with no flying horses. Although come to think of it, as I stumbled out the door in a big, big hurry, the pig out in front might have given me a dirty look. Na-aaah.I must have been pretty drunk. Yeah, that was it, but I made it the six blocks to the Holland Bar, happy to have escaped.
But I couldn’t think straight.
I ordered a brandy with the emergency ten I kept in my shoe for like... uh emergencies. And I think this qualified.
Steve the bartender served my drink in a mostly clean shot glass. It was nowhere near as good as the Courvoisier VSOP Louie was pouring so freely into giant snifters.
Sitting at the Holland bar were a few working guys and a couple of older women. The women were not in the same universe as Molly or D’Oliya. Not in the same reality. What reality? What was reality?
I couldn’t think straight.
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The Holland sound system was playing 'The Christmas Song'. I listened to Nat King Cole singing the lyrics and wondered how the Partymob would have perverted it? |
I couldn’t think straight.
What made me believe for a moment that they could possibly have moved into some alternate reality where Santa was as real as Glenn Beck? And that I had been sucked in from another one, which mean, uh, that I wasn’t really real. None of it was.
Although… Clydie Deerest seemed damn real to me. Where the hell did Clydie come from if not…?
What if it was all real? What if it was?
Could I let the PartyMob take down Santa without trying to stop it? If they did the dirty deed tonight on Christmas Eve, did I want to miss it?
Was this the chance I always fantasized about, being a real bad guy? Would I ever get another chance like this?
What would Christmas be like with them in charge? Could it be any worse? Would it be like they said, a twelve day pagan party?
What if I went back to Rudy’s? What if I got shot? Or got sent to the psycho ward? What if the pig out in front wouldn't let me in? What was I thinking?
I couldn’t think straight.
What if D’Oliya decided to tie me up, and punish me for leaving, punish me with her velvet whip, making me lick the brandy...?
What if Molly decided to throw me a pity-fuck? No, even in an alternate reality, neither could be reality. Or could they? What was impossible this morning might be possible on this particular Christmas Eve.
I couldn’t think straight.
Why were the Buddabings so sure of themselves?
I wanted to look up string theory on Wikipedia but the Holland Bar didn’t give WiFi.
I couldn’t think straight.
Did I believe all this enough to help with it? Or to stop it? Did I want to help Molly with it? I didn’t know.
Why was I 'The Guy'? Was I needed? Why? I was a guy nobody needed. Why them? Why me? Had I been set up the whole time since somebody played 'Santa Baby'? Was it Molly?
Did Molly really like me? I mean, really! An old beer-swilling barjock like me? She really seemed to.
I couldn’t think straight.
But I knew another cheap brandy in a shot glass at the Holland wouldn't help, even if I had enough to pay for it, which I didn't.
What did Molly mouth at me when she saw me sneaking out? Was it really "come back?"
Did she expect me back? Did she need me to come back? Was she still pantyless?
I had to know. I had to. All of it, not just the panties thing, although that might have been the tipping point.
I decided it didn't matter if it was really real or not. It didn't matter if I was a good guy or a bad guy. I had to know.
Besides I didn't have the money for a Christmas Eve nightcap, and I could count on Louie to lay another snifter-full on me.
So I walked back up 9th Avenue thru the heavily blowing snow. The storm was picking up and blowing into my face. It was so blowing so hard, I almost turned back, but I finally made the six blocks.
The Pig doorman bouncer waved me in, only for me to find Rudy‘s bar was full of yuppie scum.
Merry Christmas. Ho-Ho-Ho!
