By now everyone who went is sure to be asking, "Where was J.T. at Jake's show lastnight, this Sunday in November the 8th?" And I'll tell you; I had every intention of attending.
At 6pm I snuck out of my meaningless job where I've been working as a layman to Sarasota's pseudo wealthy.
Long story short I got out of there and headed to Publix having just enough money for two frozen pizzas and a 12 pack of Tab, plus whatever the door fee would be at the show and at least one vodka apple cider. In the parking lot there were these young people in burlap sacks and stripey socks with greased up hair and turnip mustache sort of attitudes and I thought "Fuck yeah, what is this, crazy Sunday?!" It wasn't until about 10 seconds later that I realized I hadn't thought that, but yelled it, and kicked one of the smaller dreaded guys at the same time. One of the youthful leaders, or the tallest and most daringly five o'clock shadowed looked at me and stepped sideways then said, "What's your problem man?"
I knew he was feeling hostile so I played it cool. "Are we kidding ourselves here or having a great f-ing time?" I was self concious about having really said the F word earlier, so I was taking it down a level. I continuted in a quickly improvised Caribean accent. "We just having a crazy Sunday here or what?" By this time they were circling around me a little and the accent didn't seem to be doing the trick. I looked over my shoulder and saw it was a full moon. I realized one, they were probably devil worshippers and two I should not try to be sexual with their girlfriends. Not because I didn't want it, which they didn't, but because the full moon is the one day a month in which I am incredibly sexually boring. It's an old family disease.
But that's not important, what is, is that these sons of bitches were probably out here worshiping the devil, and now they were going to kill me. I did the only thing I know how to do, the only thing I'm trained to do, and kicked the small dreaded one again and yelled "GET OUT OF HERE!"
They took this as an attack, not knowing that I was yelling 'get out of here' to myself. They came charging so I went running. I knew I'd never get in my car and start it before they overtook me, so I made the decision to ditch my ride. On foot I ran toward the road and up onto Ringling all the way to Payne Park. I looked back for the first time and saw they hadn't followed me. Knowing I couldn't very well go get my car this moment, and feeling like tying one on, I went to a Mexican bar to catch a breeze.
Inside were the two usual heaving bossomed senioritas and about twelve older Mexican gentleman. Noticing there was no room at the bar I took a small table for myself. The sweet one, the cocktail girl with the pretty face and bleached curls came over and asked me what I wanted.
"My life back."
"Excuse me?" She asked, leaning in.
"My life back." I said again, only slightly louder. She heard me this time, and judging by the damp sparkle in her pupil I could tell she was into these sort of desperate patron to cocktail server type jokes. I decided to go on.
"You won't even believe what's just happened to me." I went on, tapping the seat next to me. "I was just nearly-"
"What would you like to drink?"
I recovered the floating syllables at the end of my last sentence and said, "A vodka apple cider and two bowls, one filled with peanuts, one without."
She nodded and retreated back behind the bar. I could feel my heart slowing a bit from the run. I had nearly been killed but still had Jake's music on my mind. I knew if I wasn't there Jake would TP my life. A few moments slipped by as I sat back, alone in the booth, listening to some crazy Spaniard yodeling and f-ing terrific song on the juke box. My drink came along with the peanuts. I paid the girl, and just before she could turn to go I said, "You know what this needs?" Knowing that when thinking truthfully the answer to that question is almost exclusively 'black olives' or 'a father's love' She turned her head wonderfully.
"Some companionship!" I said.
She looked at me for a few seconds longer, offered a sympathetic smile then left me. I looked at my drink wishing I had ordered a run jangler. Wishing it wasn't a full moon. Wishing I had my car. Wishing I was on my way to the show. 'By God' I thought. Jake will simply crucify me if I'm not front row center. That maniac has been trying to get me to one of his shows for a leopards year. I turned and caught my reflection in the glass behind me, clearly seeing how sexually boring I was this, the November 8th.
Some time went by, and a few more drinks went down. I figured I should head back to try to get my car now if I was going to make it to the show. I finished up, paid, affectionately said my goodbyes and started the walk back up to Publix. I could see they hadn't flipped my car over or set it on fire but were still up there hanging out. I walked in circles for a few minutes, deciding whether or not I was brave. A buzz in my pocket made me jump. It was my phone. I pulled it out and saw INCOMING CALL: Jake
"Oh hell!" I shouted, ducking down a moment after, hoping the devil worshippers didn't hear me. Finally, I swallowed hard and answered. "Yeah?"
"J.T.?!"
"Yeah. What's up J?"
"Where are you?"
"Umm, I'm on my way."
"I'm about to go on."
I waited for him.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yeah. You're about to go on about what?"
"I'm about to go onstage you mormom!"
"Oh. Yeah, I'm uh. I'm just trying to get into my car. I got in a bit of a throw down with some devil worshippers and such, and they're kind of, guarding my car from me. So, you know, I hid out with this eye pastry over at some Mexican bar, waiting for these devil demons to take off, you know?"
"You don't have to lie to me. You're not coming?"
"No, I am! I'm just, this is real. This is all happening now, man."
"Look, if you can't make it, I'll just set my phone on the stage so you can listen to it that way."
"That'll sound terrible."
"If you don't hear the set tonight I'll TP your life."
I was silent for a moment. He said so calmly. He was serious. Jake was always so damned serious. I heard a click and knew I was alone on the phone. Alone, staring up at about two dozen devil worshippers waiting for my blood. I started to say a quick prayer for strength when I saw a large stick in the bushes. I quickly stopped praying and grabbed the stick. "This is it. This is goddamned everything." I said to myself. "You sick bastards can't have me. Not tonight. Not on kickass music Sundays. Yeah. Music Sunday!" I repeated, hoping to remember that phrasing to tell Jake later. It was clever word ideas like that that'll get Jake back on a guys good side. Jake and his brother and the long one with darkish hair. They all freak out over shit like that.
Suddenly I ran. Not down and not away, but up, and toward the demon kids. Life felt like it had slipped into slow motion. This could of course be because I am not a fast runner, but I like to think that it slowed to savor this moment. Life itself, not just mine, but the deeper philosophical meaning of life had slowed down. All life on Earth was crawling for me. Waiting, watching this glorious moment as I ran up the hill into the Publix parking lot, with a stick in hand, a prayer in my heart and the intent of taking it all back. Taking back my car. My pride. My f-ing life, man!
I got up into the lot waving the stick over my head as I charged toward my car. A few of the rascals looked over and I could hear one of them saying, "Look, it's that nutjob." They didn't seem to be motivated to come after me so I slowed down, stopped waving the stick around. I became very cool, playing it off as if the stick was my car's key or something. I got up to the car, and pretended to be unlocking it witht he stick. "I don't know why they make these keys so big." I said, sort of throwing the comment away over my shoulder as if I was a friendly stranger who hadn't kicked one of them earlier. Before I knew it the tall grizzly faced one was only a few feet behind me. I scrambled for the real key in my pocket, gripping the stick tighter in my hand.
"Why'd you kick our friend, bro?"
"Who?"
"Tony. Why'd you kick Tony?"
"I don't know who that is."
He held up his arm and pointed to the dreaded one, sulking with a beer can in his hand.
"I didn't mean to."
"You kicked him twice."
"Which guy?"
He pointed again, only with more of his finger. Like it was growing in anger. Like it was an eighteen inch finger. Tony, palming the beer, gave me a questioning look on que with the finger pointing. I offered him a shrug, genuinely sorry, then looked back. The long faced bearded one and I stared at each other for a long time.
"GLADIATOR!" I yelled, then for no Godly reason swung the stick into his leg. He yelped, more so out of surprise then pain I think. He then regained his composure and punched me square in the eye. I fell back, my head hitting against my car door, setting off the alarm. The tall grizzly faced brute stepped back, looking down at me. My head rested on the pavement, looking up at stars to a chorus of long whining beeps and honks coming from my car.
"That's for kicking our friend, bro."
"I'm just kidding." I said, not knowing why really. He started back toward his group who was ultimately pretty silent. At least against the whirring hell that poured out of my car. I lifted up onto my elbows and blinked a couple times to make sure I hadn't been punched blind. Slowly, I got up to my feet, now empty handed and embarrassed. My car key had flown from my hand on the impact of the ground. I looked around for a moment, but my vision was silly. The thought occured to me to askfor help from one of the devil worshippers but I decided against it. Eventually I felt a lump under my shoe and saw that I had stepped on it. I picked up the key and unlocked my door. Once open. I reached in and disabled the alarm. I managed to avoid eye contact with everyone until I was in the car with the door shut. With the car started, I pulled into gear and slowly rolled out of the parking lot. In my rear-view mirror I could see the people making their wa out of the lot, and on with their night. My phone buzzed again. The screen said JAKE. I flipped it open and pressed it against my ear. "Hello." I said. He wasn't there. Not his voice, but the sound of a live show, guitars and bass, drums and a crackling voice coming through the speakers of a cell phone. I was missing it. Staring out my at a stop sign on Ringling I listened to a few bars of Jake's most famous song, "Dance Pickle Extreme." There was color showing up around my eye, and I knew I would have a shiner. I hung up the phone, dropping it in the passenger seat, and driving on.
There was a spot just outside the Mexican bar, so I took it. Inside the same table waited for me. I slid in to the booth and waited, tapping my fingers on the sticky surface of the table. In a moment, my girl, the sweet faced, heavy breasted one, came over. She nodded, recognizing me from twenty minutes ago. I leaned my head back trying to catch the light and pointed to my eye. "For your honor." I said. She smiled weakly. "A drink?" She asked. "Rum jangler please." I answered deciding to stay here tonight.
