Disenchantment 31
By Hades502
- 374 reads
*****
“So the post office closed the day after you got fired?”
“Yeah,” said Mark.
“So, maybe you won’t get in any trouble?”
“Afraid that’s not going to be true. They filed charges against me. If the world hadn’t gone to complete dogshit, I would already be in jail. I did abandon a federal vehicle and allow people to steal the contents. The only reason I’m not in jail is that the police have much bigger fish to fry these days.”
“So, last night was a bust, huh? No missing Perry or Greek demons?” asked Randy.
“Gods, not demons,” said Mark. “Although, I suppose that really all depends on how you want to look at it. Oren told you about all that?”
“Yeah, Oren tells everyone everything...after a few drinks, anyhow.” That was true of Oren, the closest person to an open book than anyone he had ever met before. Mark was still a bit surprised he hadn’t told the cop, Hornblende.
Mark, knocked back his drink, it was almost like he was in a real bar. It was a bar, but the private one in Oren’s house. Mark had come over to take advantage of it, his symbolic bottle long gone after starting to drink again. Oren’s bandmates had been over rehearsing, or jamming, or whatever they were doing. They usually did it at Oren’s house, as he had the set up for it. Out of all of them, Mark knew Randy, the lead guitarist, the best, as he had been with Oren the longest, even back when Mark played, back when Mark planned on staying with the band as the rhythm guitarist, before his ex-wife had talked him into leaving to join the ranks of the United States postal service.
“Well, it’s good to see you again, man,” said Randy. “You still play?”
“Nope, not for years.”
“Oren’s got that old fender if you want to come jam with us.”
“Nope, I’m content in here.”
“Okay Mark, I’m going to send my cousin in here, he is talking too much for us to jam. He can be a bit odd, but he’s my cousin, so please just let him be. Is that cool?”
“I don’t care. Do you know how to play a CD in that contraption?” Mark pointed at what he thought was a tiny stereo. The speakers were even tiny. The whole thing just looked weird.
“No CDs will fit in that. Oren has his CD collection, his LP collection, but all his music is digital now. I’ll get it for you, what do you want to hear?”
“Hmmm... I want to peruse it. Fuck, I don’t care, how about Sabbath? No, solo Ozzy, ‘Diary of a Madman.’ ”
“Okay,”
“No, wait. Maybe Dio. So much music to catch up on.”
“Dio it is, what album?”
“ ‘Sacred Heart’, no wait, ‘Holy Diver.’ ”
“Hey, wow, this room is cool. He’s got a fucking bar in his house?” asked a new man, entering the room. He looked young and annoying. He wore a wife-beater, a backward baseball cap, and he was one of those people who liked to allow his pants to sag down below his ass. Mark hated him immediately.
“Hey, Justin meet Mark. Mark... Justin, my cousin.”
Mark walked behind the bar to pour himself another drink, killing the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. As he sat back down, the beginning of “Stand up and Shout” began playing through the speakers, that although were seemingly entirely too small, produced a nice sound.
“What are you listening to?” asked the newcomer, Justin.
“Dio,” grumbled mark.
“I’m going to get back to it, guys,” said Randy, as he left. Mark nodded to him, but Justin was still looking around the room in excitement, taking it all in, like a kid at Christmas.
“What ya drinking?” asked Justin.
“Johnny Walker.”
“Can I have some?”
“It’s gone.”
“Can I have something else? I like tequila, can I have some?”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“Are you going to get it, or... where is it?”
“Do I look like your fucking servant? Go back behind the bar and look for what you want.”
As Justin rummaged through the bottles, clearly not knowing what was what, he asked, “Is Patron tequila?”
“Yep.”
“Do you like hip hop?”
“Nope.”
“Hip hop is my favorite. My dad says music runs in the family. He used to play the sax in a jazz band. Do you like jazz?”
“Nope,” lied Mark. He had a passing appreciation for early jazz, before it became stale and predictable. He was not at all interested in having a conversation about it with some dumb kid who didn’t know what Patron was.
“I’m getting into metal, because Randy says it’s a good idea to listen to different kinds of music, but I still really like hip hop.”
“Is it Randy’s turn to babysit you today?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to be a hip-hop star.”
“Cool.”
“Well, like I said, I’m getting into metal. I like some bands now.”
“Congratulations.”
“Does Oren have any Poison?”
“Poison? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know, the band, ‘Talk Dirty to me.’”
“Jesus, no idea, maybe.”
“Can we listen to it?”
“No.”
“Do you like Warrant? I like ‘Cherry Pie.’ “
“No.”
“What are we listening to again?”
“Dio.”
“Dio’s a singer, right?”
“Yep.”
“Did he used to sing for Iron Maiden?”
“Nope.”
“Judas Priest?”
“Nope.”
“Who did he sing for?” Justin had sat back on the stool, next to Mark, then pulled it uncomfortably close to him. He had grabbed a coffee mug to put his tequila in for some reason, and as he sipped it he squinted, and let out an exaggerated, “Ah.”
“He sang for Rainbow and Sabbath.”
“I don’t know who Rainbow is, but I know you are lying about Black Sabbath, because Ozzy Osbourne sang for them. It seems you don’t know as much as you pretend to.”
“Okay.”
“I want to listen to something else.”
“Good for you.”
Justin got up and went behind the bar again, looking at the console. “How do you change this?”
“If you touch that, I will break your fucking arm.”
“I don’t think I like Dio.”
“I don’t think I give a shit what you like or don’t like.”
Justin smiled, and stopped the music.
Mark stood up quickly and violently, sending the bar stool flying back and clattering on the tiled floor. “If you don’t turn that back on, I will kick the ever-living shit out of you.”
Justin just stood where he was, his hand still on the stop button, wide-eyed, like a child suddenly caught stealing candy.
“No one is kicking the ever-living shit out of anyone.” Oren had walked into the room, clearly having just gotten up, his hair askew, his eyes almost bloodshot and puffy, and wearing only his boxers.
Mark turned to him. “I thought you were jamming with your buddies.”
“No, they come over sometimes, they know I’m a bit busy, but are welcome whenever they want.”
“Wow,” said Justin, “You look like Dave Mustaine.” Mark was quite surprised that the kid would know who Dave Mustaine was.
“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” said Oren, smiling. “You must be Randy’s cousin.”
“Yeah, I’m Justin.” The kid smiled and walked back around the bar to shake hands with Oren. He then extended his hand to Mark, who pretended not to notice as he bent over to pick up the barstool.
“You just let people come fuck around in your house when you’re sleeping?” asked Mark. You don’t even know this guy. Why are people jamming in your house when you’re sleeping?”
“You’re here, aren’t you? It’s an open invitation to all my friends. The studio is soundproof, so as not to disturb the neighbors. The bar is not. It was one Ronnie James who woke me up this morning...uh afternoon. So thanks for that. Look Mark, I have an open invitation to all my friends. This is where we rehearse.”
“This asshole is your friend?”
“He’s Randy’s cousin. He’s fine.”
“Fine isn’t the word I would use to describe him.”
Justin seemed oblivious to Mark’s insults. “Hey, since you look like Dave Mustaine, you guys should be in a Megadeth tribute band.”
“Well, everyone loves AC/DC. You know, Megadeth is more of an acquired taste. We do some Megadeth on occasion, but AC/DC pays the bills.”
“I listened to a Megadeth song once. Dave Mustaine used to be in Iron Maiden, right?”
“Dude, can you just go hang out with your cousin?” asked Mark. He felt that the guy was deliberately poking all his nerves.
“Actually, Metallica,” replied Oren. “Dave Mustaine was in Metallica.”
“Hey, Randy told me to come in here.”
“Hey Justin, it’s really nice to meet you, man, and it would be awesome to hang out later, but I think I need to talk to my friend, Mark. Would you like to go watch a movie in the other room?” Oren was patiently treating the idiot as though he was an actual child. Of course, the douchebag was acting like one.
“Why don’t you guys go in another room. I like this one. Randy told me to come in here.”
“This ain’t Randy’s house, asshole, it’s his. Do you normally come into other people’s homes and tell them where to go?”
Oren didn’t acknowledge Mark’s comment, and instead continued talking to Randy, “Hey Justin, what kind of movies do you like?”
“Superheroes, what about you?”
“I think we can find some superhero films for you.”
“Yeah, go have a lollipop and watch some cartoons,” said Mark.
“I would rather stay here—“
Mark had had enough. He grabbed Randy’s collar with both hands and pushed him toward the door. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here...”
“Fine, I’ll leave.” Justin seemed a bit shocked at being treated that way. Mark was surprised that no one had treated him that way before, the spoiled little shit that he was.
As Justin exited the room, Mark followed him. “I’m going to tell Randy that—“
Mark slammed the door on him, cutting off whatever else the guy was about to say.
“You didn’t need to do that,” said Oren after a few seconds of silence. “He’s just young.”
“He’s an ass.”
“You still gatekeeping metal, huh?”
“You still kowtowing to fucking posers, huh?”
“Mark, he’s not a poser, he’s trying to get into some good music. We should welcome him.”
“You can welcome him all you want when I’m not around.”
“So, you’re drinking again, huh?”
“Yeah, you’re out of Black, got anymore?”
“No, just Blue and Red.”
“Blue will do.”
“What about some coffee?”
“Blue will do.”
“Like I said last night, we’re all sorry about Nannette. She was sweet.” Oren went behind the bar and opened up a compartment beneath the sink area, pulling out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue label. Sighing, he opened her up.
“Sweeter than Perry,” said Mark.
Oren allowed the smile to drop from his face, and just stared at Mark. “Like I said, we’re all sorry about Nannette.”
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Mark emanates anger which may
Mark emanates anger which may be liberating for him, but I felt so sorry for Justin who was just trying to be friendly. Mark's had a lot to cope with, tragedy seems to follow him from one place to another by his own failings. It all goes to keep the story going and interesting.
Looking forward to reading more.
Jenny.
- Log in to post comments