the only target in sight.
"When was the last time you bought a
pack of smokes?"
Johnny actually took a step back in surprise.
"I supply the weed, man."
"That I usually give you money for, you
worthless shit!"
"What the hell is your problem?"
Johnny asked. "You got the same hair up your ass that Drew does?"
"Yeah, I do, you asshole."
Johnny looked genuinely confused now.
"You wanna screw Jenny too?"
"No, you dumb-ass! I think you deserved
to get your ass kicked for all the nasty shit you said about her."
"I was just trying to let Drew know what
kind of girl she really is."
"Bullshit!" Jake gave him a hard
shove. "What you did, didn't have anything to do with but you."
They looked at one another, sizing each other
up.
Johnny threw his can to the ground, raising
his arms up. "Go ahead, then motherfucker. I'm already limpin' like a beat
dog, this is your best shot to take me down."
"On your best day," Jake lit up his
smoke. "I'd still mop the floor with you, and you know it."
Johnny took a hard swallow. "Put your
money where your mouth is, buddy." He suppressed the urge to cough up
blood, barely.
The demon smiled from the sidelines, some
more fun shit might happen after all.
"Here's your smoke," Jake flicked
the lit cigarette at Johnny, hitting him in the chest, ambers bouncing off his
shirt like a cheap bottle rocket.
Johnny stood dead still, looking at his old
friend.
Jake reached into the case of beer, grabbing
a handful of cans and throwing them out onto the front yard of the old house.
"This is your cut of the beer that you didn't pay for." He threw out
another handful. "Drink up and have a good time all by your
lonesome."
"You're leaving me out here? Where am I
supposed to crash?"
Jake pointed at the old cursed house.
"That seems like the closest thing to a home you're ever going to find.
You might as well get comfortable now."
"Gonna leave me out here with the
wolves?"
Jake had already started to walk home, but he
turned for a brief instant. "You are a wolf." Jake's footsteps faded
away as he walked off into the darkness.
The demon seeped into the back-window of the
old house, already setting a plan into motion.
"Whatever," Johnny said, picking up
the burning cigarette and taking a deep drag. Gathering up the beers that were
left for him, he took them up to the battered, rotting porch. He looked at the
dilapidated house with a nod. "Story of my life." He wiped his bloody
nose yet again.
Silence answered him as his solo status
started to set in. "Wonder if there is a chair in there somewhere,"
he reached for the small door knob, expecting it to be locked.
The old rusty handle spun in his hand like it
was recently greased, the door creaked back about six inches before bumping
into something and stopping. A slight, musty smell blew across his face as the
old air in the house quickly escaped from its dark prison.
Johnny stood, looking at the doorknob,
wondering why he had opened the door in the first place. "I can just
sit on the porch steps," the thought to himself. "I don't need
a Goddamn chair."
His cigarette dipped down towards the ground,
hanging loosely from his lips, smoke trailing into his eyes, suddenly some
ashes joined in.
"Shit," Johnny rubbed at his eyes,
taking a step back.
"Maybe there's a bed in there you can
crash on later, " a
voice in his head added.
He stumbled away with the wave of his hand.
He had no intentions of going to sleep anytime soon. He had at least eight more
beers to drink.
"What's the problem, bro?" the voice asked. "You chicken
shit?"
Johnny answered the question by taking three
quick steps and giving the door a hard kick, breaking the top hinge, making the
door flutter like a broken butterfly wing for a moment before leaning against
the wall, like a drunk, like Johnny.
"Wendy," Johnny said in his best
Jack Nicholson voice, strolling into the old house. "I'm home."
Taking a deep drag from his smoke, he looked
at the room from the flare of the
"When was the last time you bought a
pack of smokes?"
Johnny actually took a step back in surprise.
"I supply the weed, man."
"That I usually give you money for, you
worthless shit!"
"What the hell is your problem?"
Johnny asked. "You got the same hair up your ass that Drew does?"
"Yeah, I do, you asshole."
Johnny looked genuinely confused now.
"You wanna screw Jenny too?"
"No, you dumb-ass! I think you deserved
to get your ass kicked for all the nasty shit you said about her."
"I was just trying to let Drew know what
kind of girl she really is."
"Bullshit!" Jake gave him a hard
shove. "What you did, didn't have anything to do with but you."
They looked at one another, sizing each other
up.
Johnny threw his can to the ground, raising
his arms up. "Go ahead, then motherfucker. I'm already limpin' like a beat
dog, this is your best shot to take me down."
"On your best day," Jake lit up his
smoke. "I'd still mop the floor with you, and you know it."
Johnny took a hard swallow. "Put your
money where your mouth is, buddy." He suppressed the urge to cough up
blood, barely.
The demon smiled from the sidelines, some
more fun shit might happen after all.
"Here's your smoke," Jake flicked
the lit cigarette at Johnny, hitting him in the chest, ambers bouncing off his
shirt like a cheap bottle rocket.
Johnny stood dead still, looking at his old
friend.
Jake reached into the case of beer, grabbing
a handful of cans and throwing them out onto the front yard of the old house.
"This is your cut of the beer that you didn't pay for." He threw out
another handful. "Drink up and have a good time all by your
lonesome."
"You're leaving me out here? Where am I
supposed to crash?"
Jake pointed at the old cursed house.
"That seems like the closest thing to a home you're ever going to find.
You might as well get comfortable now."
"Gonna leave me out here with the
wolves?"
Jake had already started to walk home, but he
turned for a brief instant. "You are a wolf." Jake's footsteps faded
away as he walked off into the darkness.
The demon seeped into the back-window of the
old house, already setting a plan into motion.
"Whatever," Johnny said, picking up
the burning cigarette and taking a deep drag. Gathering up the beers that were
left for him, he took them up to the battered, rotting porch. He looked at the
dilapidated house with a nod. "Story of my life." He wiped his bloody
nose yet again.
Silence answered him as his solo status
started to set in. "Wonder if there is a chair in there somewhere,"
he reached for the small door knob, expecting it to be locked.
The old rusty handle spun in his hand like it
was recently greased, the door creaked back about six inches before bumping
into something and stopping. A slight, musty smell blew across his face as the
old air in the house quickly escaped from its dark prison.
Johnny stood, looking at the doorknob,
wondering why he had opened the door in the first place. "I can just
sit on the porch steps," the thought to himself. "I don't need
a Goddamn chair."
His cigarette dipped down towards the ground,
hanging loosely from his lips, smoke trailing into his eyes, suddenly some
ashes joined in.
"Shit," Johnny rubbed at his eyes,
taking a step back.
"Maybe there's a bed in there you can
crash on later, " a
voice in his head added.
He stumbled away with the wave of his hand.
He had no intentions of going to sleep anytime soon. He had at least eight more
beers to drink.
"What's the problem, bro?" the voice asked. "You chicken
shit?"
Johnny answered the question by taking three
quick steps and giving the door a hard kick, breaking the top hinge, making the
door flutter like a broken butterfly wing for a moment before leaning against
the wall, like a drunk, like Johnny.
"Wendy," Johnny said in his best
Jack Nicholson voice, strolling into the old house. "I'm home."
Taking a deep drag from his smoke, he looked
at the room from the flare of the
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