A scene for Tuesday night

Because tonight feels like this, doesn't it?



“Alright lad,” Nodel barks.

“I know it’s barbaric, but this is how I audition my staff. Let’s see what you can do with Bobbie.”

Shit. Bobbie’s a human tank. 6 foot five with a giant skull scarred from fracture repairs. He takes an aggressive stance. I’ve got karate, boxing and Police defensive training in my arsenal, but Bobbie is massive. If he had any technical training, I’d be torn apart. To give up so much size, plus the sheer momentum of brute flesh.

“There’s two rules. No eyes and no balls. Abide by that boys. Now, square off like Jews and Arabs.”

I am not what I seem to these men. But more immediate, did Bobbie get the rules about eyes and balls? I want to leave this job with both my vision and my testicles intact.

Nodel walks back to his stool and snatches his drink, a double scotch and diet cola.

Bobbie grunts and stalks forward, a bear freakishly rendered upright. “Okay lady boy, I give you the first shot. Make it count.”

“Bobbie, come on, I’ve never done this before.”

Bobbie waves his great paws.

“Take it now. I'll give you to five. One-"

CRACK. I slam my fist into Bobbie’s nose. That had better be his septum and not my knuckles.

Bobbie’s head flies back, his scream forces bloody air out of what’s left of his nose.

“You muder funking cun.” He puts a fat paw to his face and catches the spray of blood. It pools in his palm, then he turns his hand and lets it splatter on the floor. A roar comes up from his mammoth lungs, which pumps more blood on his shirt.

He’s big, but fast. He lunges at me with incredible fury. I step sideways and kick for the knee. Thank God I connect. I hear a pop and Bobbie crumbles to the floor, his lungs still fat with a savage scream. A quick kick to the back of the head and Bobbie’s face hammers a piece of railing. He collapses on the floor. I can’t see his face now, only blood from a massive gash in his forehead.

Nodel leaps off his stool and comes to Bobbie’s aid.

“Jesus Christ...Bobbie?"

He spits out a mouthful of blood.

Nodel looks queasy.

I back well away. Nodel looks up at me.

“Fuck my ass, that was lethal."

“Is he okay?”

Nodel looks down at Bobbie.

“I don't think he is. Jesus weeps! Desiree, get some towels down here.”

Desiree, an anorexic bleach blonde, rushes over some damp bar towels. Nodel snatches them from her hands and presses them into Bobbie’s face.

Again, he looks up at me.

“Absolutely fucking lethal.”

Bobbie is able to hold the towels and Nodel pulls his hands away.

“I’ll be right back.”

Nodel gets up and hurries towards the washroom, holding out his bloody fingers. He doesn't like the sight of blood, especially on himself.

My fists drop to my sides. Bobbie’s been counted out. Nodel’s made his squeamish retreat. What happens now?

Desiree takes a few steps toward me.

“Can I get you a drink?”

"Yea. A beer, the coldest beer you've got."



Ah, that felt really good. I think I'll go clean the cat box and do the dishes.