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Rated: 18+ · Other · Other · #1891054
The city burns and the sirens wail
“How’d you get in here?”

“I came in through the fuckin’ door. You just fuckin’ seen me come in the Fuckin’ door!”

“I locked it!”

“Look, Tony, it’s been a long day for everybody. Give me a pint a Beam.”

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“The door wasn’t locked, Tony! Bic retraced his first three steps and re-opened the door. There was an old black shade pulled down over the glass part. The door buzzed when he opened it, like it had before. A cat ran through like a shot. Bic was just closing the door, and bam. The cat ran to the rear of the store and disappeared in the shadows.

“What, so now you bringing in cats?”

“That cat! I don’t even know that cat!”

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“The door wasn’t locked, Tony!”

“I locked that door!” the man screamed from behind the counter. “And my name’s not Tony!”

“Look, all I want is a pint—“

“Don’t come back in here you little ass-wipe!” The man was nearly purple in the face.

“I have a driver’s license!” Bic said.

“Where?”

“Just not with me!”

The man behind the counter stared.

“Not with me, at this moment right now,” Bic said. “I mean, I got ID and everything; just not here… with me--”

“Out! Get out! Do not come back!”

“As you can plainly see, I’m leaving, thank you very much,” Bic said. He opened the door which again began buzzing. He stood in the doorway with the buzzing door and made his eyes sad like a Basset Hound’s.

“Two seconds! I’m calling the cops in two seconds!” Two fingers were raised and left hanging in the air beyond the counter top.

“On the eyes of my mother,” Bic began, “I’m twenty-fucking-four years old!”

“One second…” One finger.

“The whole downtown is burning, Tony! Call the cops! I bet they’ll come rushing!”

“My name is not… Tony!” the man said, his voice was now a whisper and his head sank against his chest in despair and fatigue.

The cat ran past Bic again, this time back out the door.

“Here! Here! Here! Go!” the man said. “And take your fucking cat!”

And a pint bottle of something was in the air in a gentle arc gliding towards Bic’s closely shaved head.

His heart stopped for a moment for he was never good at things like this, but his hand reached out, and the bottle landed squarely in his palm.

“God bless Ye!”

“Out!”

Bic let the glass door swing shut behind him. The buzzer stopped. He looked down at the cat which stood not far from his feet. Outside it was misting and wet from the wind blown spray of fire hoses to the east. He could see the water spraying majestically into the night sky which was a strange orange and purple blue.

Everything this side of Park P. was covered in ash. He stood on the sidewalk looking out onto the non-busy night time street. Sirens blared in the distance. The few civilian cars on the street swooshed by. Helicopters hovered somewhere overhead, but he could only hear them.

Bic found a doorway up the street. He sat on the top step. The overhang archway kept most of the falling ash away. The cat sat on the same step Bic sat on. Bic unscrewed the cap of the bottle of Jim Beam and took a long swig. He looked at his new cat as the sirens wailed at the World Trade Center. A little later he’d lie down and maybe get some sleep. He took another swig and thought the day wasn’t so bad after all.



© Copyright 2012 Winchester Jones (ty.gregory at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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