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One Long Ass Story
2 Pages at a Time
People fell in line on the somber afternoon to pay their final respects to the Chief. The procession moved one person at a time as each and every attendant took turns spitting on the smooth marble tomb. Some continued on a tearful sob journey to the caravan, some walked with humility, a few kicked and slammed their palms on the Chief’s tomb. It was indeed an emotional day. John Smith was no exception. The last time he shed a tear was when he lost his dog in a tragic hunting accident when he was but 12 years old. Now the middle aged soldier pulled off his sunglasses, shed a tear, and spat exactly where the dot of the I would be in Chief.
He could have sworn he heard the echoes of the Chief’s voice, “Damnit Smith, stop your crying and get out there. Your team needs you!”
“Aye, Chief. Aye.” Smith whispered to himself. He was happy it was raining, he couldn’t stand to let others see him cry. Smith felt a shove from his left. Peterson.
“C’mon big guy you’re not the only one who need to pay respects.” Peterson said as he let loose a brown tobacco laced loogie onto the tomb while also unzipping his trousers. “I’ve been holding this in since final rights.”
“Damnit Peterson, do you really have to do that now?” Smith shielded himself from the splash back. The stream was overwhelming. This can’t be healthy thought Smith.
Peterson had to begin yelling over the sound of urine on marble. Also the other attendees waiting in line began expressing their distaste with Peterson’s mourning expression. He may have been entitled to it, that didn’t mean others had to tolerate it. Peterson was hollering something about having the last say in an argument him and chief had. If one drops before the other then this was the agreement and Peterson was just claiming his just reward. Smith had trouble understanding Peterson as he was sobbing at this point. How is he still not finished? Thought Smith.
“I don’t know!’ Said Peterson. That’s right, Peterson can read minds, thought Smith. Then immediately began thinking la la la la la.
Twenty minutes later they decided to leave Peterson behind and the other attendees would pay their respects later. The bagpipes continued to play. The reception was held at Chief’s favorite bar. Granted it was everyone’s favorite bar. It was the only bar still standing, in the entire universe, after the Generation of Otherworldly Autonomous Trinkets Building an Almighty Legion of Legendary Socratics shut the others down. They are indeed that evil, or are they?
Smith was on his third drink when the Chief’s son pulled up a chair and slumped into the seat. “Damn decent pastor we got for dad, eh Smith?”
“Junior, I didn’t think you would make it. Here, I mean.”
“Why? Because I haven’t talked with my old man for 5 years?”
“No, because you’re twelve.”
“We’ll that may be so, but I’m the Chief now, so that means I have to put on my big boy pants and start manning around. Hit me bar Chief, give me my dad’s regular.” The bar tended pulled out a glass, filled it with ice, smashed it against the youth’s cranium, and handed him a bottle of Shmeggs. Smith was amazed at Junior’s resilience.
“Did your dad order that a lot?”
“No, only when I was around, to the old dead bastard. May the worms eat your eyes first, so you’ll never have to see this hell hole again.” Junior topped off Smith’s drank and with a cheers they downed their respective glasses. He might just be a kid, but he was already drinking like a Chief. If pride wasn’t forgotten in the Great Switcheroo, his dad would be proud.
Junior reared back, his eyes were shut and tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. He coughed and retched as the taste of the liquor subsided. “Your first drink?” Asked Smith. Junior nodded as the bartender filled a glass with Polka Cola. “Here, you can start off with this-“ Smith was interrupted as Junior hucked the glass across the bar, nailing an escort teasing three gentlemen.
“Damnit Smith, it’s my first day as Chief! I can’t let them see me weak.”
“Sure fella, sure.” Smith patted him on the back.
“Hey Chief!” From right behind them a group of colleagues gathered around. We’ll probably learn more about them and their names later, but for now, Smith looked on this crowd with a warm smile. “Hey there, Chief. Look we just wanted to say our condolences.”
“Thanks, team. But honestly I haven’t talked with the old man since-.”
“And we wanted to welcome you to the force! Here!” The group handed Junior a box wrapped in colorful balloon wrapping paper with a letter. Junior ripped apart the wrap and opened the box to see laying on silk plush, his father’s mustache. “I know Chief would’ve wanted you to have it. And since you’re now Chief, well you need to have it now. If you want any respect around here.” One member from the crew spat in Junior’s face as another smacked him briskly on the side of his head.
“What the heck?!”
“Now go on and put on the stash!” Junior obliged.
The scene changed drastically as everyone reigned in the new Chief.
Up Junior went onto everyone’s shoulders. He was lifted to the ceiling as everyone cheered him on. This reminded Smith of the time Chief was inducted into the team. His colleagues presented him with his grandfather’s mustache, and upon attempting to lift Chief on above their heads, a brawl broke out. Chief did not like human contact. Another stray tear left Smith’s eye. This was the first time he cried in such a short interval. ‘Keep it together’ Smith thought to himself. Which was easier to do after Junior Chief puked all over the crowd. A young liver new to liquor plus sporadic movement would do that to any youth. The group dropped him and he landed on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Smith picked him up and sat him on the stool.
“I’m too young for this shit.” Chief Junior said.
“You’ll get used to it. C’mon, you wanna go dance?” Junior nodded at the question. And Smith downed his drink and they were about to go to the dance floor, then Peterson bursted through the door. Sweaty, red, and panting.
“The…. The…. It’s the…. Jesus, I can’t... “
“What’s going on there Peterson?”
“The fuckin….. Oh mother of…… Fucking the…..” Peterson fell into a fit of coughing.
“Out with it Peterson!” Exclaimed the new Chief. The colleagues nodded to one another, this kid’s got it.
“The GOATBALLS are on the way!”
TBC