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The Good Guys Always Win

Started by mini, March 11, 2011, 08:19:12 PM

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mini

March 11, 2011, 08:19:12 PM Last Edit: March 11, 2011, 08:22:01 PM by minnesota68
I couldn't find where to post this, so here goes...

This is a short story (entirely fiction) that I wrote.  Let me know what you think.  Should I write another?  Feedback appreciated.

(positive feedback GREATLY appreciated :ugly: )

The Good Guys Always Win
by mini

He was drunk.

If there is anything I dislike more than a loudmouth drunk messing up my families weekly pilgrimage to our favorite Mexican restaurant, I have not found it.  Somehow, when you mix obnoxious with alcohol, the resulting mess doesn't sit well with my favorite ten inch burrito.

My wife and kids were uncomfortable.  So were the other patrons.  And Suzanne our waitress was trying to be as cordial as possible.

We have been coming here for years now.  Suzanne and her husband Ricardo had opened the place in 2005.  It is their life-long dream.  And it was love at first taste for us.  Tuesday is our family night, and every night is the same.  They quit asking our order 2 years ago.

But tonight, there was a drunk sitting one booth down from our table.  He was facing me, and I was facing him and the front door.  But at this point, he was not paying as much attention to me as much as he was La Bamba playing over the speaker.  He had to be the first person I have ever seen that was red faced in anger over La Bamba.  And it was not the song that he was mad at, it was the fact that Ricardo had only played it twice.

"Margaritas?" I asked Suzanne when she brought our cheese sauce. 

"Si" she whispered.  "He's had 4 so far, and he was a little drunk when he came in.  Ricardo has called the police."

Great.  Now my burrito was gonna be interrupted by an arrest.  I tend to get cranky when my mexican food is interrupted.

Suddenly the drunk yelled something about the virtues of Ritche Valens, and then a tirade of profanity laced words about Mexico, Mexicans, and illegal immigrants in general.  His words were not kind.  He grabbed for Suzanna as she walked by, but missed.  I'll give her one thing, shes quick on her feet.

Two things happened right then.

One, I got mad.  I don't get mad very often, but I knew Ricardo and Suzanne well enough.  My wife and Suzanne had become fast friends.  Both adored their grandmothers.  Suzanne's 87 year old grandmother (everyone called her Abuela) lived with them over on 5th street.  Abuela didn't speak a lick of English, but somehow, my wife and her got along great.  Suzanne and my wife loved their families.  We have had Suzanne and Ricardo, both of their kids, and Abuela over every year for the past 4 years to celebrate the 4th of July.  We pack up every Cinco de Mayo and enjoy traditional food with them.  (Hint, never bring store bought chips.)  Every Christmas, we take their kids gifts.  They do the same for ours.

I even taught Ricardo how to hunt deer.

And now some drunk is messing with my friends.

The second thing that happened was the police officer stepped in.  I should probably preface this remark by saying we live in a smaller town with a population of around 14000.  And no, we dont know everyone, but the chance of seeing someone you know when you are in town is nearly 100%.  And when the police officer stepped in I realized it was my cousin, Marty.

Ricardo had come out of the kitchen and was talking to Marty.  Unfortunately for me, they were still talking when the drunk saw me staring at him.  His next tirade included everyone in the restaurant, but was aimed at me.  Then he called my wife a name that shouldn't be repeated.

When he paused for a breath, I told him "Shut. Up." loudly enough for the restaurant to hear.  I saw Marty do a collective glance that included me, my family and the rest of the people, then his gaze rested on the back of the drunks head.  The drunk started to get up, and Marty started to come forward.  And then I saw the lightbulb go off in Marty's head, and he slid into a empty booth.  He was gonna watch the show.

Marty and I grew up playing together, as cousins often do.  And as male cousins often do, we fought like cats and dogs.  It was never a issue of anger, but simply dominance.  Some days he would win.  Some days I would win.  One day when we were 14, I pulled a stunt on him that to this day, we talk about.  He had walked up to me while I was sitting at a table, during a family picnic, and went to throw me to the ground.  What resulted next was one of the funniest scenes that I have stored in my mind.  We have argued the logistics of it for the past 18 years, but the result is always the same.  I won that fight fair and square.  And it was fixing to happen again. 

The drunk paused at the edge of my table and asked if I had a problem with him.

"Yes.  You are drunk.  And you are interrupting everyones dinner.  And you called my wife a very inappropriate name.  Apologize and leave."  In his drunken stupor, he had been given a false confidence.  I was relaxed, leaned back in my chair.  I was no threat to him.

My wife was scared.  My kids were wide eyed.

Then he grabbed for me.  With my left hand, I slapped his arm away, knocking him off balance.  His momentum, combined with me slapping his arm spun him around.  Instantly I hooked my left foot in front of him and jerked back while with my right foot I kicked his now exposed back.

The result today was the same thing Marty experienced 18 years ago.  He was flat on his face on the floor in a matter of two seconds with the wind knocked out of him.  I shifted slightly, and rested my foot uncomfortably on the back side of his neck  The drunk was suddenly stone cold sober.  And everyone was staring, slack jawed.

"Mister," I said quietly, "I hate having my dinner interrupted.  Now apologize to my wife."  He mumbled something.  Slightly, I increased the pressure of my foot on his neck. 

He yelled, "I'm sorry Ma'am."

"Now apologize to Ricardo and Suzanne.  You have made quite a scene in their restaurant."

"I'm sorry!"  By now he was starting to cry a little.

"You're interrupting everyones dinner.  Apologize to them."

The "I'm sorry" had turned into a sob.

"Now Im gonna sit here and finish my dinner.  If you so much as wiggle, I will break your neck.  Is that understood?"  He started to mumble through sobs, but a slight increase in foot pressure a second time got the words out clearly.

I looked at Marty.  "Sir, I would be honored if you would join me at my table for dinner."  He hated when I called him sir.  Grinning he walked over.  He knew all to well what the drunk was feeling.  He bent down, handcuffed him and then set down across the table from me.

Slowly, a table of older ladies started clapping.  Then another.  Before it was over, everyone was clapping and grinning.

And we got our meal on the house that night.
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

The Purple Fuzzy


SippinTea

"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

MelodyB

Have you slapped that one dude from Indiana with a pie in the face today? [br /]  [IMG]http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h181/MelodyB99/Other/duckie-2.gif[/img]

sunlight

YAY! another thing to look forward to!

I think this rates up there with the yankee bear stories! WOOHOO!
  :attackhug: Be full of hugs!

MsJennJenn

 "When a flower doesn't bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower."
-Alexander Den Heijer-
"When I wait, you strengthen my heart."
-Psalms 27:14-
:shine:

Roscoe

 Mini, you have a talent for writing. I must say, I'm amazed. :o I thought your only talent was pestering folks. :lol:
Potstirrer and snoop extraordinaire   "I have friends in overalls whose friendship I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world."- Thomas Edison

SippinTea

.... and preaching. :)

.... and a few other things. :)

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

The Purple Fuzzy

We should start a GP Publishing House. ;)

Lynx

I wouldn't advise it.  Even the UPCI media division is having trouble.  :sadbounce:
"Do you sing at church?"[br /]"Yes I sing at church, I sing at home, at work, in the car, at the supermarket, at Wal-Mart..."[br /]:sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing:

SippinTea

Quote from: The Purple Fuzzy on March 12, 2011, 08:35:09 PM
We should start a GP Publishing House. ;)


I agree! We've got authors AND illustrators on board, and photographers for cover art and publicity... oh yeah, I'm likin' this idea. ;)

Seriously now... if everyone on GP marketed their skills to everyone else, just THINK of all the Christmas and birthday shopping that would be done ahead of time! ;)

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

chelleebelle

Anxiously awaiting the next segment...


Roscoe

Quote from: chelleebelle on March 12, 2011, 10:35:07 PM
Anxiously awaiting the next segment...
Make him hurry up. You can make him do things- we have to wait impatiently. :laughhard:
Potstirrer and snoop extraordinaire   "I have friends in overalls whose friendship I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world."- Thomas Edison

taco_harvell

In love with RainbowJingles [br /][br /]http://lessonsintrust.blogspot.com/

mini

Quote from: five-oh on March 12, 2011, 11:47:09 PM
Quote from: chelleebelle on March 12, 2011, 10:35:07 PM
Anxiously awaiting the next segment...
Make him hurry up. You can make him do things- we have to wait impatiently. :laughhard:


Shes got the next segment now...if she gives me a thumbs up, Ill post here in a bit...

Warning...its different from the other one, like night and day, but still along the lines of "The Good Guy."
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

mini

March 14, 2011, 04:54:02 PM #15 Last Edit: March 14, 2011, 04:59:52 PM by minnesota68
DAN
by mini
Dedicated to my lovely wife chelleebelle

Dan walked along the edge of the road, facing the oncoming traffic. His mind was a torn battleground, thick in the fog of depression. Absolutes that once stood as assured were only ruins. From the mists you could hear the cry of desperation, brokenness, and heartache. He didn't have the heart to end his life, but wished it would suddenly go away. He had never prayed for death yet secretly he wished for it.

For the hundredth time today, he asked himself what was worth living for. He knew he was living in self pity, but the ironic thing was, when you were in the pit of self pity, you were blind to the way to get out.

It happened on a Monday afternoon. She had just picked up the kids from his parents house, and was on her way home. Dan had put a roast in the crock-pot that morning, and she was going to start the potatoes when she got home. Yet a half a mile away from home, a dump truck driver who was strung out on meth and running from a cop ran over the car, killing her and both kids instantly.

The blessing and curse of a small town is everyone knows everyone. His parents heard the sirens, and it wasn't long before someone called them. Dan wrestled in his mind with the person that called his parents that day. A certain panic at the tragedy, yet a certain satisfaction that they were the first with the news. If she had had Dans cell phone number she would have called him personally. Such is the life of a gossip, and the satisfaction they get being the first one to deliver bad news or opinion.

Dan had been with a customer and missed their calls. So when the troopers pulled up at work 30 minutes later, he was blissfully unawares of what had happened. He knew both troopers. Calvin had graduated a year ahead of him in school. Scott was a long time friend. When he saw two of them, his stomach went queasy. Dan knew that two troopers, looking stiff and formal, were not here to bring good news. Out of a habit he looked at his phone. It was then he saw the missed calls, the voice mail. The room started to spin. Things didn't look right. He saw the look in his Scott's eyes. Immense sorrow.

Looking over Scott's shoulder, Dan saw his dad pull up. He could tell at a distance that he had been crying. Scott waited till Dan's dad stepped through the door to break the news. At least he tried to break the news. Scott couldn't bear to see the news hit, Calvin had to finish.
Dan passed out. Somewhere deep inside him, something broke. Combine that with the intense emotional wave that passed over him, it was to much. When he came too, their faces were the first thing he saw, and he knew it was not just some bad dream.

The following days were a blur. Life insurance took care of the funerals. A lawyer acquaintance took care of the trucking company for no cost. The settlement left Dan more money than he had ever seen.

But the depression set it. Bit by bit, the world grew darker. It seems that when you think you have reached rock bottom, you can find a way to go lower. For months he had slept on the couch. He couldn't bring himself to open the doors to their rooms. Something small would trigger a emotional flashback, and suddenly he would find himself lower than before.

Unconsciously, he glanced at his watch. 2:16 pm. He always left the house before 3. The school let out at three, and the school kids walked by his house. He couldn't hear their voices without pain.

Peoples words hurt the most. They meant well, but it was like they poured salt on deep festered wounds. The healing wasn't taking place. "Move on." "You have to get over it." "She would have wanted this." The most well meaning person could hurt the most. After a while, people stopped visiting. A few dear friends had stuck it out, but even they limited their contact after a while.

Dan glanced around. He was was entering downtown. With a bitter sigh he stepped up on the sidewalk. He caught a glance of himself a window. At some point, he had given up trying to maintain any decent appearance. His jeans were in bad need of washing. The stubble on his face had long given way to a beard, and his hair was a greasy mess. The shirt he was wearing should have been thrown away along time ago. Dan knew he needed a bath. But each of these were tied with painful memories, and the energy and effort had long been accounted as not worth it.

Its surprising his house was as clean as it was. His impact there was limited. Yet when he was home, he was usually on the couch. Eating was a afterthought, and usually some frozen dinner. He used to love to cook, but now it hurt to much. Once a week, he would take out two sacks of trash, one from the kitchen, the other from the bathroom.

Walking on, he turned at the next block, crossed the street, and went over to the bench in the alley behind the bank. Years ago, someone had tried to make it a urban utopia, complete with flowerbeds, tables, and benches. Now all that was left were six benches and the flowerbeds. Dan liked the isolation, and the fact that the benches were almost hidden from a casual glance inside the doorway. Most people had forgotten about it. Fewer yet even cared. Wild ivy had taken over most of the area, and drowned out most of the surrounding noise.

He sat down on the 2nd bench. As usual, no one was here. Once he had came here and found a jogger resting. But that had been months ago.

His habit was simple, although mundane. On any weekday, he was out of the house by 7:30, and back around 9. Most of the time he would sit in the house with it as dark as possible. Then every afternoon, about 2, he would make his way to this park, and stay till about 4:30. Then back home, till the next morning. He would go to the store to get the essentials, but that was once a week at the most. Contact with people was limited. "Why grow close when they will hurt you?" was the thought he wrestled with.

A sudden sound interrupted his thoughts. It was a girl, nearly Dans age. She sat down on the first bench inside the doorway. He felt a surge of panic. He couldn't get out without passing her. He watched her for a moment. She had red hair and sad eyes.

The benefit you get from struggling with your own personal trials, is you can spot those trials in others. It was a revelation for Dan. With the revelation was decision. He looked at the ground in front of him. Why should he care? Didn't he have enough heartache? He pondered this a moment. Suddenly he felt eyes upon him. Startled he looked up to find her staring at him. Suppressed, he realized she was not looking at him in pity or fear, but with curiosity. The surge of panic was back, the animal instinct to escape.

Her eyes seemed to draw him in. He broke the gaze first to stare at a imaginary spot on the ground. For a long minute, then two, he stared. Slowly he peeked again at the spot where she sat.

She was gone.

The next day, it was more curiosity than anything that drew him back to his favorite spot. He arrived at 2:20. At 2:25 she was back. Again the stares, again, the panic. And by 2:40 she was gone again. For the next few days it was the same routine in this secret utopia.

On the 5th day, she waved as she left.

Dan had noticed some things about her. She always wore her hair up. She dressed nicely, not necessarily fashionably. She seemed sad, but yet it seemed both of them brightened a little when they saw each other.

On Saturday, he went to the little park. He doubted she would be here, but the curiosity was drawing him. He noticed the bottle only after he had set down. There was a note in it, rolled up to slide easily in the neck of the bottle. Looking guiltily around, Dan picked it up.
Shakily, he slid it out.

It a girls handwriting, "I did not think to tell you until after I waved and was gone, but I wont be back until Monday." He knew it was her.

Monday, his response was written inside the same bottle, and placed on her bench by the time she sat down. She smiled when she read it. She left a note for him.

Daily throughout the weeks, they continued this exchange. The notes began to grow longer, the smiles came more often. Without him noticing, the rays of sun began to shine through the fog of depression. She told him about her life. Slowly, he began to share his story. One day he wrote of when his wife and children died. It was the hardest note yet. She cried when she read it. He cried too, not so much as for himself, but for the fact that she was crying.

After several weeks, she moved to the bench across from him, then to his bench. Strangely, he didn't mind.

Then she asked him to dinner. He thought of his ragged clothes. His unkept hair. His first love. She watched his face, and saw the struggle inside. It was a huge bridge to cross for both of them. "Will you give me a few days to answer?" Dan asked quietly. "Yes," she replied brightly. He left that day before she did.

That night he shaved his beard. The next day, he was at a local retailer when they opened. It was the first time he had purchased new clothes in months. New jeans, new shirts, and two new pairs of shoes. His next stop was at the barbers.

The surprise and excitement in her eyes was worth it. Uncharacteristically, she hugged him, then jerked back blushing. He didn't have to tell her his answer. She picked him up at seven that night.

And four weeks later, they said their vows in a little church on the south end of town.
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

SippinTea

Alright, Mini. That's it. Full-length novel simply MUST be finished and ready to publish by mid-summer. Ya hear me now? :demand:

Very seriously... Randy Alcorn is one of my top 3 favorite authors, and your writing style reminds me a LOT of his. Excellent, excellent job! :) I realize I'm not an editor, but I DO have years and years of experience in the christian book markets, and I think you need to seriously consider going into this in a bigger way. You pull readers in emotionally - both crying and laughing, you have a wonderful way of wording things that is edgy and appealing, and... I'll guarantee you your books would sell if a full-length novel was ANYTHING like what we've just seen.

Think about it, please. :)

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

MelodyB

I was thinking it sounded like Randys style too!!

Yes, Jeremy! Listen to Ruby! Do it!!
Have you slapped that one dude from Indiana with a pie in the face today? [br /]  [IMG]http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h181/MelodyB99/Other/duckie-2.gif[/img]

The Purple Fuzzy


sunlight

dude, Ok. Ruby, you have got to bring the Alcorn books then, If they are like this, then I wanna read them too.

:like: x1000!
  :attackhug: Be full of hugs!

SippinTea

Uh, sorry, Chel. They're WAY too fat to read in a couple days - even for me. *lol*

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

sunlight

rats.

Well, can I borrow them then? lol!
  :attackhug: Be full of hugs!

Babs

Quote from: SippinTea on March 14, 2011, 09:49:27 PM
Uh, sorry, Chel. They're WAY too fat to read in a couple days - even for me. *lol*

:beret:


not for me lol i read each one in about an hour each lol
Religion is worthless until it is able to move outside the walls.

My latest blog post.

SippinTea

Quote from: Babs on March 14, 2011, 09:57:33 PM
not for me lol i read each one in about an hour each lol


:eek!: Are you serious?? I've been told over and over again that I read super fast, but... yikes! How in the world!?!?.... :o *lol*

Quote from: sunlight on March 14, 2011, 09:50:25 PM
rats.

Well, can I borrow them then? lol!


I'm sure you can... when you move to Oregon and are close enough I can meet up with you for icecream on occasion. :hypocrite:

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

sunlight

haha! I'm not the one you need to be talking to about that.. haha.

i think we :pwink: mini's thread... oops. :halo:
  :attackhug: Be full of hugs!

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