The Club Incident


The music was too loud. Well, the music was too loud for me. The bass in the current track seemed to bounce off the walls and shoot into my body. The music produced the kind of vibrations that really tend to aggravate drunkenness. Extreme energy to go along with the ear drilling music resonated through the building. Women and teenagers alike danced their temporarily uninhibited little hearts out. Most of the men (as usual) held to the walls or the bar. Laser lights and the sound of the DJ assaulted every drug-addled individual in the place. Of course I was on my own cocktail. Tonight was different though. Tonight, I didn’t care. After losing my job and my fiancé all in one day, I needed some release.

From the entrance to the bar spanned a distance of around fifty feet. I lazily made my way through the writhing mass of bodies to the crowded bar; every now and then sliding my hand for a well-placed grope on any unassuming target I wished. The thought of confrontation never crossed my mind, considering the proximity of the crowd. I needed action, and I didn’t care what form it came to me in. A fight or a one night stand was coming my way, and I was determined to make it happen quick.

I positioned myself at the bar, next to a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was slightly tall and dressed in a mini skirt with a top that was made of cheap faux leather. Her makeup was caked on in the way you would expect from a cheap escort. I quickly commented on this. Getting close enough to her ear that she could hear me over the bass heavy music, I spoke with a slight slur.

“Shouldn’t you be on a street corner somewhere, sweetheart?” I asked with a grin.

She looked at me like she had just swallowed an extremely sour drink.

“What in the hell did you just say to me, you asshole?” her surprise turning to anger as she spoke.

“Well, can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money for service up-front?” I said barely holding my laughter in.

At this, the conversation was over. The drink she was holding flew out of its glass and into my face. It was one of those fruity drinks that women often have to hide the taste of liquor. She stormed off toward the end of the bar, and I knew that my moment of glory was near. Little did I know this particular woman was a girlfriend of the head of security for this little establishment. Thinking nothing of the recent exchange, I ordered a Jack and Coke and waited for my next target.

My wait was short lived. Instead of another attractive sex object coming my way, a beer bottle decided to find its way onto the side of my skull. The blow staggered me, and I ended up tripping nicely onto the floor. Blood trickled down the side of my face from the wounds made by the glass stuck in my skin. Before I could get up on my own accord, I felt myself being dragged through the crowd by two massive security guards. The back door swung open violently, and I was tossed outside into the dark alley. Strangely enough, the guards followed and let the door slam behind them.

“You are going to learn to watch your mouth, you little prick!’ The fatter one decided to scream at me.

I started to speak but was cut short by a steel-toed boot to my ribs. The question of why a bouncer in a bar would need steel-toed boots quickly flashed across my mind but was interrupted when I felt the second kick, and my ribs cracked. I crumpled over to one side, trying to let my laughter escape my possibly punctured lungs. There was no time for much conversation. Between the kicks and the sound of fists thudding into my face, I was sure they couldn’t hear me anyway.  I felt my nose break finally after the last blow from the ham-fisted security guard. Shortly after I went limp, they decided the fun was over and sauntered back into the club.

My breathing was labored by the rib most likely poking into my lung. I didn’t have any words for them as they left me. But just before I passed out in the dark, trash covered alley, I was able to say one last thing to myself.

“Well Jack, I had fun. We should do this again sometime…”

© Jesse Cole 2011
Published by Short Stack Story Time 2014

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