Time, Gentlemen, Please... (718 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: fiction
Rating: 1.38 on 27 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Flash Harry (View user info) at 2008-08-14 09:02:47 EDT
I walked through the narrow doors and into the dark, dingy interior. The smell of sweat and wet dog and flatulence hung thick in the air, and from the surrounding shadows coughs of phlegm and tired laughter rumbled towards me. The decorations that were once beige and chocolate brown and welcoming are fading, filthy and tattered. The whole establishment seems poorly, and out of sorts. Even the barman looks sick.
Still, this is the meeting place, and I walk towards the bar, my feet sticking to the floor with every step. Clambering onto a wobbly stool, I lean my elbows on the sticky, beer-sodden bar and immediately pull them away again, vaguely repulsed. I survey the taps, aware that the barman is glaring at me, waiting for my order. There has been no greeting, nor even the chance to see a wine list (if there were one, that is). Customer service is not a priority, it seems.
"Pint o' lager," I grunt in a manner that seems befitting of the atmosphere. I can't even be bothered to specify which brand of lager I prefer, since they are all fairly bland. The barman evidently doesn't care either, and he fills up a glass from the tap nearest to him. The beer, when it comes, resembles a tall glass of cold piss. The brief pretence of foam evaporates as the pint is placed before me, spilling sloppily over the rim. I hand the barman a note and examine the drink. Barely a bubble rises through the burnt liquid, a sure sign that the beer is well and truly dead.
It tastes worse than it looks, too. As I take a sip, I wince at the cold, thorny sensation that barely scents my tongue with any notion of flavour and stampedes painfully down my throat. I place the pint down, looking dejectedly at my watch. In my eagerness, I am here far too early. I turn my attention to the chap that sits on a stool to the left of me, staring at the back of his hand and coughing softly into the air.
He probably isn't all that old, but he looks it. Shrewd, shifty eyes, a long, thin nose and billowing, flayed nostrils give me the faint impression that he is a madman. A coarse beard muzzles his lower face. It is flecked with grey, and seems the product of laziness more than anything else. His cheeks and his stomach give off the subtle impression of a severely bloated bladder; swollen and pink; quite clearly a legacy of the man's capacity for drink.
He catches me looking at him. "Alright, son," he says gruffly. "What's the weather like out there?" He fixes me with a quizzical stare.
"Pretty miserable," I reply, excruciatingly aware of how my voice sounds compared to his guttural baritone. "Started raining after I left the house, so I didn't even manage to bring an umbrella," I smiled sheepishly, immediately regretting the trite femininity of my banter.
The madman just smiled, and handed me his newspaper. "Want a look?"
I took the damp package gratefully, and opened it up. I threw back a long, painful swig of lager as the barman pours another drink for the madman, since his is running down to the bottom of the glass. He didn't even ask for it.
"Drink?" asks the madman, swivelling to face me on his stool.
I point at my own pint, which is still two thirds full. "No thanks, mate. I've got this still to go."
The madman shrugs, as if to say 'ah well, don't say I didn't ask,' and I go back to the paper. However, he doesn't turn away, and remains facing in my direction. I flit over the story on the front cover. I turn to the inside pages, and my eyes glance up and down the topless form of Linsey, a blonde beauty from the Midlands.
"Lovely girl that, ain't she," says the madman. It is a statement, not a question, and I nod in agreement. I come to the sickening realisation that he has handed me his newspaper so that we can discuss its contents. I'd rather hoped it would give me a welcome opportunity to be quiet.
He stares at me intensely. "She's lovely," I mutter.
"Wouldn't mind a bit o' action wi' her," he concurs, stretching his limbs languidly, exposing his wobbling belly. "What about you?" he asks solemnly. "Do you like action?"
"Um...yeah," I say uncertainly. The madman seems pleased, with an appreciative whistle and a long gulp from his beer. He belches loudly and flagrantly.
I stare at the newspaper, desperately trying to avoid further eye contact. The paper lies open on the story of a prostitute who has been raped and beaten half to death in an alleyway not far from the pub in which we sit. It sounds like a terrible ordeal, the poor woman having been abandoned and unconscious when she was found by a member of the public in the early hours of the next day.
The madman can see that I am looking over the article, and he laughs heartily. "Did ye see that!?" he roars unnecessarily. "Had a good laugh at that one myself."
"What do you mean you laughed at it?" I demand, without thinking it through. The disgust in my voice is too clear, and the madman's eyes suddenly sparkle with a malicious glint. He grabs his pint glass with a vicious grip, as though it were an enemy's throat, and takes a deliberately thirsty guzzle, before setting the drink back onto the bar and addressing me.
"Aye, I laughed at it. Stupid wee whore's got it comin', hasn't she, out in the streets at all hours wi' her skirt around her waist and her mouth hingin' open like a bin. You're probably always in yer bed," he growled as a grubby finger extended towards me, "but there's some no-very-nice people wanderin' about they streets at night."
I nod, smile, and look back to the paper. I must be grinning like a maniac, but its all I can do to stop the fear that I feel from spreading over my countenance. I'm dealing with a lunatic here, quite clearly. Suddenly, a new pint is placed before me, despite the fact that I've still got a quarter of my first one left.
"There ye go son," says the madman in a comforting tone. I nod my thanks to him, cursing his generosity and checking the time on my watch with subtle panic.
"There's a strip club next door, ye know," he continues. "It's no open at this time, but I can get in the back door any time I like, if you know what I mean. Just if you fancy it, that is. Get a wee dance, a wee drink, a wee feel. Then, if ye see one ye like..."
I look at him cautiously.
"...ye can rape the wee bitch!"
I stand up to leave, completely unnerved by the ranting uncertainty of my unwelcome companion, but he has sprung to his feet and blocked the door off with his thick frame before I can move.
"Where ye going!?" he enquires.
"I'm going out to meet someone," I blabber frantically. "I'm supposed to be meeting them here but they must've got lost and I need to go and find them."
"Phone them," he suggests.
"I..."
"Sit down."
"Look. Thanks mate, you seem like a really...good guy, but I'm not interested in raping or strippers or anything, okay? I just wanna go. I don't want any trouble."
The madman's shoulders relax, and he laughs cheerily. "Take it easy, wee man," he cajoles, flashing a smile of gums and rot. "I've just bought you a pint - at least have a drink from it before ye go."
I smiled, and unclenched slightly. If he just wants me to take a drink, fair enough, I thought. I'll gob half the pint one, say I'm going to the bathroom and sneak out. I lifted the glass to my lips, wetting them slightly with my tongue, and poured the golden juice into my mouth. The taste was still acidic, and ghastly. From the corner of my eye I noticed the barman's jaw drop open, and his eyes bulge out, and I wondered what the devil was the matter with him.
The madman's fist connected with the bottom of the glass as I drank, driving the glass into my face, slicing my cheeks at either lip. The lager poured into my eyes, blinding me, and I stumbled backwards, tripped over the barstool and collapsed in a disorderly puddle of lager, shards of glass, and blood. My face felt like it had been torched with searing heat, and the blood filled my mouth up as I spluttered and roared in agony and indignation.
I was vaguely aware of hands around my neck and shoulders, but I was too busy scrabbling at the broken ruins of glass that lay on my tongue and lodged in my slashed skin. Suddenly, cold air hit the wound, causing me to yell out in pain, and the ground beneath me was wet and cold. The barman tossed me into the wall across the alleyway, in a bloody, fearsome state.
As a gaggle of scantily-clad strippers came trotting towards me screaming, their stilettos clicking on the ground and their perfume wafting towards me, I felt myself slip into the numbness of shock. I raised my hands up to the warmth of the blood, and tried to speak, but my mouth hung from my face in a useless flap.
"Ye're barred," growled the barman.
User Reviews
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-08-15 05:23:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Linsey, a blonde beauty from the Midlands.
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you forgot 19. this was good. :)
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2008-08-14 21:35:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
GOD DAMMIT BELL.
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-08-14 14:03:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm sure somebody must've picked up on this already but your tenses in this are fucked and for me that's a schoolboy error. Also, you could've done so much more with this concept.
The overall quality of writing between tense fuck-ups saves this from being a -2 worthy piece of shit.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-08-14 13:33:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
much much better
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-08-14 12:20:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, there are countless examples of that. I kept on getting interrupted while I was writing and when I came back to it I find myself writing in a different tense.
Fuck, I think I just did it again. Do it? Done it?
*dies*
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-08-14 12:19:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, and "I walked" should probably be "I walk." I like present tense in short pieces like this.
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-08-14 12:18:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I was going to point out one spot where it looks like they are, but I thought it would sound too anal.
"I took the damp package gratefully, and opened it up. I threw back a long, painful swig..."
S/B
"I take the damp package gratefully and open it up. I throw back a long, painful swig..."
I think.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-08-14 11:44:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Is it just me or are my tenses all fucked up throughout this?
Seems to jump from the past to the present and back again quite a few times...
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-08-14 11:41:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ha ha ha.
More like this, only without quite so many adverbs.
Submitted by Gay (user info) at 2008-08-14 11:02:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
http://stuff.ubersite.com/1190022701257832640/1/Uh%20Oh!.jpg
Submitted by BobSandwich (user info) at 2008-08-14 11:00:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This makes me think of the movie Green Street Hooligans
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:24:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Bunny Lebowski - "thats Uli, he's nihilist"
The Dude - "yeah, that must be exhausting"
Submitted by MudWhistle (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:23:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
hey listen...we get it
there's a club/bar by you called 'uber' i mean you've pasted links how many times and now a picture
no one cares
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:22:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2008-08-14 15:17:51 BST (#)
Ranking: -2
Streak breaker to the rescue!
=====
You miserable fuck! That make you feel good did it? Give yourself a pat on the back did you?
Well done, the ultimate twit strikes again.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:22:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I have selective reading syndrome. Did Shlongy just finally admit to being a beak stroker?
Mind you, with a shnozz like his it probably can't be helped.
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:20:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I was tempted not to give you a 2 here because I don't think I've ever not and because you're on a bit of a 2 streak but in the end I discover I don't have it in me.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:17:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Streak breaker to the rescue!
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-08-14 10:02:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
2 weekends away and you are ALL invited.
I'm off to buy some deckchairs and a corner group sofa for the banqueting hall. In the west wing.
from DFS. LOL
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:54:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
So the nippers don't burn their fingers.
What I REALLY want to know is, when's the house-warming party, hmmm?
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:53:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A wire cover to guard the fire.
I am soooo happy. :)
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:35:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fire guard?
smoke alarm?
fire extinguisher?
Ameri-English please Pheely, my Brit-English via Monty Python only gets me so far. :(
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:32:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:29:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh yeah, and no internet from monday until...............???
Uber REJOICE!
Fuck, I am so happy. I just had to buy 2 more stair gates and a fire guard it is so big and grand!!
And I broke the garden bench in two by sitting on it :(
It has an apple tree, a lilac tree, a honey suckle, firs, a budlehia, oh goodness, I am gonna pee my pants!!
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:29:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
good luck in the new house.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:27:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Awesome.
Have you been to see it? Met the neighbours? Fixed your name to the mailbox?
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:27:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
2 for 1 pizza!
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-08-14 09:24:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I HAVE THE KEYS!