Everyone loves a teaser.

I want to share one last chapter from my book Letters from Jasper.

For context, this is the next chapter after The Truth About Love – tonysbologna : Honest. Satirical. Observations

 

Chapter 7: The Brawl

 

 

 

The next morning, the sun washes over Omar and Jasper, who are lying seats-back in a poor man’s camper: their rental car. The heat tickles Omar’s face, and he rolls over and moans because the morning did what the morning does, comes too early.

“Oh… ohh. I feel like shit,” says Omar while burying his head in his arms. He hears Jasper rustling beside him.

“Man, you were awesome last night!” booms Jasper.

Omar rolls over and turns his back towards his father – it was far too early for excitement.

“Really, you were something!” Jasper continues.

“Dad, keep it down; my head hurts,” grumps Omar.

“I bet it does, after last night. Shit…my head would probably hurt too if I was you,”

Omar’s face puzzles. He scrunches his eyebrows, lost in thought, trying to connect the dots. Everything was so foggy, and he couldn’t remember. Then, after a beat, he forces himself to sit up.

“Ugh… what?” Omar mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You kicked that guy’s ass!” Says Jasper. “Don’t you remember?”

The foggy confusion in Omar’s mind abruptly clears, replaced by a jolt of icy panic. His stomach swirls as his world tilts precariously for a moment. “What are you fuggin’ talking about?” says Omar, his voice still groggy.

Jasper’s eyes widen as he traces Omar’s face. He reaches out and grabs Omar by the ridge of his chin. “Oh man, wear your badge with pride, kid!” says Jasper while admiring Omar’s face as if it were the Mona Lisa. Omar lurches forward and snaps the sun visor down with a bang. His face suddenly goes white, and he turns his head from side to side, trying to get a better angle of the view.

“What the hell?” says Omar as he studies the black cosmos of a shiner around his eye. Horror slowly spreads across his face. He feels a low, dull ache slowly growing from his knuckles, and upon closer inspection, the skin around his knuckle is red, raw, and riveting in pain. Fuck. He slowly opens and closes his hand. It hurts to move.

“What happened last night?” Omar demands as shock spreads across his face. “I told you I didn’t want to drink!”

Jasper laughs and slaps his thigh, then turns to Omar with a stupid, lazy grin spread across his face.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” says Jasper.

Omar looks at his father and raises his eyebrows as if to say, “Duh.”

“Well damn, I guess you did get pretty loaded, huh.”

Jasper laughs some more while Omar frowns.

“Man, the craziest shit happened last night. Those Charmers got a funny way of being charming, you know,” says Jasper.

Omar shakes his head, his impatience getting the better of him.

“I’m sorry, what? What happened? Out with it!”

Jasper cracks his knuckles and smiles. And with that, Omar and Jasper slowly drift down memory lane.

Jasper and Omar were slumped up at the bar, admiring the minefield of shot glasses in front of them with their arms draped around each other’s backs for the first time in five years. Behind them, the dive bar spread out, crusty, old, and drunk. The ceiling was red as if it was angry at the patrons, and while the dim lighting did its best to hide the graffiti-covered walls, it couldn’t quite cover up the artistic gems like “For a good time call…” and “Big Steve was here.”

In the front, near the stage, the bikers had only grown more comfortable. Some would say too comfortable for a public setting. They treated the table like a closet and spread all their gear across its mahogany top, daring the waitress to find a spot to serve their wings. One biker had his feet kicked up on stage like he was lounging in a therapist’s office. And collectively, they gave the Charmers the hospitality of a cactus: nothing but prickles. Apparently, somewhere along the night, for no particular reason, they decided they needed to create their own fun.

One biker in particular, a burly bastard with a big, bushy beard, looked at Gentry and hollered, “Hey, Charmin! Need me to pass a roll for that soft-ass rock you’re playing?” Gentry winced and started to hit his drums a little harder.

Another biker, sporting a skullcap for a skull with no brain, grinned like an oaf as he shouted at Gentry, “Oi, leprechaun! Where’s ye pot of gold, mate?” His buddies’ belly laughed and sent their fat rolls jiggling up and down like a trampoline. Gentry’s face tightened, his lips pursed, and his face turned a few shades red like he ate too much hot sauce.

And then finally – the pièce de résistance that started it all. It came from the biker with long, greasy hair and a face torn to shreds from the wind and the road. He hollered over the music, “If I wanted to hear some shitty songs, I never would have left an elevator.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose. Gentry stood up from behind the drums, grabbed Paul’s guitar, and WHAM! Right over the biker’s head, splitting it open like a cut cantaloupe. In that moment, only for a moment, the air in the bar was sucked out while the winds of change blew in. Everyone at the bar knew one thing: what happened before wouldn’t be the same again.

“Immediately, two of those biker bastards stood up, and one of them shot-putted a full glass of beer right off Adam’s face. Just Bam! A dull thud. The type of ringless thud where you know it hurt. Well, that didn’t sit well with Gentry, who took one of his drumsticks and flung it at the biker, but he ducked, and it fuckin’ hit me.”

WHAM.

“And then, man, you sprung into action. You ran like a damn wildebeest and socked that one biker in the eye… he was a big bastard too.”

“I did what?” says Omar.

“Just ran over and POW. I mean really, where did you learn to punch like that?”

Omar glances down at his fists with a slight smile.

“Are you serious?” says Omar.

“Yeah! And it gets better. Well, the thing about being a wildebeest is you got a little too wild. After you socked the sonofabitch, one of those biker’s wives was Mt. St. Helens just waiting to explode. She was all like, Denny! Denny! Then she reached on the table, grabbed her purse, and slapped the ever-living shit out of you.”

Omar touches his face and glances into the mirror.

“This is from a purse? What the fuck? What did she have in there?” says Omar as he starts to rub his face.

“Makeup, cigarettes, fireworks?.. maybe a gun,” Jasper offers.

“How do you know it’s a firework?” Omar demands.

“It’s Indiana. They like watching things go boom.”

Omar raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t you remember all those firework roadside stands we drove past? The ones next to the porn stands and the ninja shit?”

Mutedly, Omar nods.

“Anyways, the way you went after them to defend me, that was brave. Albeit misguided.” Jasper laughs.

“I don’t feel very brave,” Omar says, now rubbing his eye.

“That’s because you’re human. Sometimes bravery feels like regret.” Says Jasper.

“Well, what happened? Where’s Gentry?”

“I’m gettin’ there, don’t want to spoil a story,” Jasper assures and continues.

“Welp, I went to get you – you were coiled on the ground, moaning, “My face, my fuckin’ face!”

“I tried to smooth it over but as fate would have it, I noticed another Coke on the ground. And of course, I wanted a sip. Figured it’ll help me lift you up.”

“What are you, fuckin’ Popeye? That doesn’t even make sense,” says Omar.

“Don’t interrupt the story. But then I saw that guy you punched and boy was he mad. He had blood and snot running down his face like he was a bull, and you were the fighter in red. I rushed to open up that coke, but the damn thing was all shaken up. It exploded! I didn’t even get a chance to drink it. But the silver lining is… it went right into him and his wife’s eyes and temporarily blinded them. And then, while they were rubbing the shit out of their eyes, ol’ Gentry put the drum right over his head. It was like a fuckin’ cartoon.”

Jasper slaps his leg and starts to laugh uncontrollably while Omar’s mouth hangs ajar. He’s somewhere between disbelief and disgusted. Jasper continues.

“I just grabbed you, and we got out of there right before the cops arrived. I shouldn’t have done this, but I did drive the car down a few miles to get the hell out of dodge.”

“The hell out of dodge?” says Omar.

“It’s the road code.” Says Jasper confidently.

“Oh please.”

Now fully pulled off Memory Lane, Jasper sat with a boyish grin spread across his face.

“But I’m telling you, you really laid into that bastard! He was big too.”

Omar massages his temples.

“And to confirm, this is from a purse?” Omar asks.

“Yep, the silver lining is someone said you had a future as a crash test dummy.” Jasper nods.

“That’s comforting,” says Omar mutely.

But then, Jasper put his arm on Omar’s shoulder and leans forward, “I’m proud of you for standing up for me. Even if you got hit by a big ol’ purse.”

Omar’s face relaxes into a smile as he feels the flicker of confidence for the first time in a long time. He looks into the mirror one last time and rubs his face.

“Thanks.”

Jasper shoots up in his seat and taps the steering wheel. “Alright, let’s get going. We gotta get you out west before time runs out.”

Omar looks out the window and notices a cloud beginning to cover the sun.

Please like, comment, share, and let me know what you think! I’m in the process of pitching agents, if any of you are one, let’s talk.  More importantly, thank you all for your help. I will always appreciate you.