Destructive Fiction | Running on Empty

Running on Full

2007-11-25T16:55:00.000-05:00

“…And so it went. We always did get in over our heads. And every little bet, challenge, and adventure we had became a textbook case of escalation. Like how Jake and I decided to put the ‘Axe Effect’ to the test, and got arrested in under fifteen minutes.

"But even though things got out of hand at Fairview High, we all left a little wiser. …Not to say that that was the end of our adventures.

“There was the time in ’08 when Dan, Jake, and I went on a reality dating show, each with our own hidden agendas. There was also the time that we impersonated police detectives from the 1970’s just to get back at Jake’s bookie. Not to mention Dan’s ridiculous attempts to get back into the dating scene, and his frustrating but hilarious job search back in ’07. Jake faked his death in ‘09, and, for some reason, I got dragged into the MassPike Road Race of 2010.

“…But the last time we were all together was a few years after all that, when we all took a cross-country road trip that ended in us parting ways. It’s not like we planned it to be that way, but you never can tell how life is going to develop.

"I had known Dan since high school, and it wasn’t easy seeing him go. But he had his own mountains to climb, his own dreams to chase, and I could tell that me and Jake would’ve just held him back.”

Somewhere in Arizona, in a small town called Pima, Dan and D-Man stand at the edge of a desert road, a few yards away from a tired-looking bus stop. Dan has an old canvas duffel bag slung over his left shoulder, as he watches the coach bus slowly come into view.

“That’ll be mine,” he says. Dan turns to look at D-Man, whose hands are stuffed in the pockets of his brown aviator jacket. “You still heading to California?”

“For a little while,” D-Man responds. “Then it’s off to Tokyo.”

Dan nods silently, then looks off down the seemingly endless desert road. “It’s been one hell of a ride, Devin.”

“It helps when you have a good driver.”

Dan watches the bus pull over. “Well, this is it. Tell Jake to take care of himself.”

“Yeah.” D-Man nods, then holds out his hand.

Dan shakes it, and then slaps D-Man on the back.

“You follow your dreams, Daniel. They won’t steer you wrong.”

Dan adjusts the bag on his shoulder and begins to walk toward the bus. He looks back one last time, then walks away.

“Go get her,” whispers D-Man. He watches Dan get on the bus, and in moments, he’s gone.

“…After that day, I never saw Dan again. He was always a little mysterious to me, like there was some joke that he only shared with himself.

"He had such big ideas. God only knows if they ever panned out.

“I like to think they did.”

THE END, FOR NOW

Mr. Popular part 3: Dan Decides to Join the Football Team

2007-11-12T13:03:00.000-05:00

“Oh my god, here he comes!”

Dan walks through the front doors of Fairview High on his second day of school. The students murmur about him as he walks toward his locker.

“He’s the one who started that huge food fight yesterday at lunch.”

“…Heard he’s from Milford…”

“…Kind of lanky…”

“He’s kinda cute…” says one girl.

“I’d bang him,” says Jake, leaning in next to the girl while wearing his janitor outfit. She looks at him with disgust. “Not that I’m completely gay or anything.” He nods at a passing girl in a miniskirt. “How you doin?”

Dan opens his locker and starts tossing books around. Ryan and Ian walk by. “Hey Dan! You comin’ to the skatepark this afternoon?”

“You know it.”

D-Man approaches Dan while casually sweeping the floor. “Is that where you were yesterday? The Fairview Skatepark?”

“Yeah. You should see it, D-Man, it’s like ten times better than Milford’s.”

“That’s not surprising. Milford’s is made of wood, and it’s the size of a tennis court.” D-Man looks around to make sure he’s not being watched. “So how come you didn’t come out last night? Me and Jake swapped out some speed limit signs on Oak Crest Road.”

“I was watching the Disney Channel. Hannah Montana and Life with Derek. And let me tell you something, pal o’ mine, the girl who plays Derek’s sister is very easy on the eye.”

“…Ashley Leggat…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Anyway, she was cute in a wholesome kinda way. Like it almost makes me want to be a better person. Settle down… you know. Get a job at a bank. Put my dreams away for another day.”

“Get ahold of yourself, Daniel. I think this teenager crap is clouding your mind. You’re on a journey of self-actualization here. Don’t backtrack.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

Rachel Weiss, a cute but nerdy girl, cradles her books in her arms as she builds up the courage to walk toward Dan. As she nears him, his eyes meet hers, and her lips part in anticipation of her first verbal exchange with this mysterious new kid from another town. Suddenly, a large calloused hand shoves her aside, and Rachel is slammed into the lockers. Zack Evans, flanked by CJ and KJ, snickers as he gives Rachel a perfunctory glance and returns his hand to his jacket pocket.

“So,” Zack starts. “You’re the new guy.”

“That’s what I heard,” responds Dan. The hall noise dies down, as students slowly disappear into their respective classrooms.

“That was one hell of a show you put on for us yesterday.”

“I’m glad you guys enjoyed it. I’ll be here all month.”

“You’re a funny guy, aren’t you?” says Zack. CJ and KJ chuckle.

“I’ve started some laughs, sure.” Dan closes his locker. “Get to the point, Zack.”

“I’m just sayin’ don’t get too ambitious. If you’re a clown… stay a clown. But don’t expect your antics to get you a seat at the big boy’s table.”

“I’m just doin’ my time, boss. Not trying to make any waves.”

Zack holds up his hands. “That’s all I want to hear.” Zack’s attention is interrupted by the sound of urine hitting metal. He looks over to see Jake pissing into a nearby locker.

“Hey gents,” says Jake. “The bathroom was full of smokers, and I got a horribly shy bladder.”

Zack shakes his head. “C’mon guys. Let’s go.” The trio of superjocks walks off.

Jake finishes and wipes his hands on his shirt. “You know those guys?” he asks Dan.

“Superjocks. The higher ups. They’ve noticed me.” Dan scowls. “…And I’m a threat to them.”

“Well, sure. After throwing pudding around the cafeteria in your underwear.”

“That was you.”

“Yeah, but you started it.”

“We’re getting off point, here. If I’m gonna be the most popular kid in this school, I gotta take down Zack Evans. That means I gotta take things to a whole other level.”

“What’re you thinkin’?”

“I’m going to join the football team.” Dan nods with a smirk, then glances at Jake’s pants and flinches. “God dammit, Jake! If you’re not gonna wear underwear, keep the fly closed!”

“Hey, Thursdays are my days off, you know that.”

TO BE CONTINUED ELSEWHERE/WHEN

Mr. Popular part 2: First Day

2007-11-05T07:11:00.000-05:00

“No! It doesn’t make any sense!” says Dan. “How the hell will ontological empiricism prepare us for the working world?!” Dan is sitting at his desk in the muggy Fairview High classroom, staring down his new teacher.

“If it’s real-world training you’re looking for, that can wait until college, young man.”

“College?! That SHIT SHOW?! College is a refuge from reality, if anything…” Dan stops himself, as his eyes look cautiously around the classroom. “…Or so I’ve heard.”

“Who’s the new guy?” whispers Lindsay Walker to the girl next to her.

The girl shrugs. “I heard he’s from Milford.”

“Milford? That explains a lot.”

* * *

D-Man, wearing his ubiquitous sunglasses and a janitor’s outfit, stops Dan in the hallway. “What the hell was that back there?”

“You heard that?”

“I was in the hall outside the class, cleaning up a nicely sized pool of urine. You’d be amazed at how many kids mess themselves on the first day of school.”

“Hey, all I did was point out how irrelevant high school courses are. I couldn’t hold that back, D-Man. Not this cowboy. I’ve been out there, man. I’ve searched for work month after month, and my education counts for nothing!” Dan holds up his history book. “How the hell is the life of Charlemagne gonna help me get a job? I’d like to know.”

“Daniel, you’re missing the point here. The point is not to get revenge… save that for another story arc fer chrissake. The point is being popular. Right?”

“What do you care, anyway? You bet against me.”

“Hey, just because I know you can’t do it doesn’t mean I won’t help you try.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, I’m serious Dan.” D-Man points at him. “I have no confidence in your success here. Prove me wrong.”

“Really?”

“Or don’t. It doesn’t really matter.” D-Man nods at a passing girl. “How you doing, sweetheart?” The girl looks disgusted and walks away briskly. D-Man points at the girl as he looks back at Dan. “You see what just happened there? I swear to god, this janitor outfit is killing my game. Anyway,” D-Man shakes his head and regains his original point. “Don’t argue with teachers like you did earlier. Being cool is all about indifference. If you’re going to be passionate about anything, make it football.”

Dan scowls as his mind races. “Football, eh?”

“Exactly. Alright, I gotta find Jake. God only knows what he’s getting himself into.”

* * *

“…I’ve noticed you… noticing me… and I have to say, I’m flattered. You and I… were two halves coming together. Well, not halves exactly, more like sixty-forty, but you know what I mean. I know you want me, and I want you too. I have to have you. I want to crawl inside you and feel your warmth… your love…”

Jake is completely naked as he speaks these words to a pile of used panties in the girl’s locker room.

“Jake!” whispers D-Man from the doorway. “Are you in there?”

“What do you want? I’m kind of having a moment here.”

“Put some clothes on, man. Lunch is starting, and you know that’s our busiest time of day.”

“Sure.”

Seconds later, Jake is back in his janitor garb, holding a red pair of panties in his hand like a rose plucked from a garden.

“So, you found the panty pile.” Rob the janitor enters. He’s an older man, somewhere in his late thirties, but his age has absolutely nothing to do with his level of maturity.

“It’s quite a collection,” Rob continues. “Leftovers, really. Vestiges of girls past. See, I had to collect the clothing left behind by students. Remove them to make way for the new ones. Yes, this pile is collection ten years in the making.”

Jake nods in silent awe.

“It’s nice to see that I’m not the only one drawn to their… majestic aura.” Rob holds out a filthy hand to Jake. “I’m Rob. You must be Jake, the new janitor of the E wing.”

“Hey Rob. Yeah, me and my pal just started today.”

“Ah. So you have yet to see the supply closet.”

Two minutes later, Rob and Jake are standing in a room surrounded by shelves of cleaning supplies and the like. “Impressive, no?”

“Amazing,” says Jake. “You have quite the setup here, man.”

Rob looks over the various cleaners and chemicals. “Yes, you see… I used to work in a body shop in Phoenix before coming here. And while the chemicals found here are second to those found in a body shop, they are more powerful and plentiful than any civilian could legally acquire…” Rob sucks in his gut with pride. “As with a body shop, a janitor’s closet is a veritable apothecary of mood altering substances.”

* * *

Dan enters the cafeteria and looks around. “Oh, right… the tier system.” Every section of every table is home to a wide array of social groups and subgroups, with the rich jocks at one end of the room, and the white trash at the other.

Dan makes his way over to empty section of one of the tables, and tosses down his bagged lunch. As he cracks open his soda, he notices a small group of giggling girls looking at him. Dan nods, and the girls laugh and turn away. Dan shakes his head in embarrassment.

“Fuck nerds,” says a voice to Dan’s left.

Dan turns his head. “What?”

“Fuck nerds,” repeats the student two seats down. “You’re the guy who knocked out that freshman this morning.”

“So?”

The student holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m not trying to start something, here.” He waves his hand. “Hey man, come and sit with us.”

Dan slides down toward the small group of kids.

“I’m Ryan. This is Ian and Justin.”

Dan nods at the others. “What’s up?”

“You new here?” asks Justin.

“Yeah, I used to go to Milford High. Moved to Fairview last summer.”

“So what’re you into? You do sports?”

Dan recalls Jake’s cool chart. “Umm… I like football.”

“Football?” says Ryan. “That means you’ll probably be hangin’ with those superjocks over there.” Ryan points toward the rich kids.

“Superjocks?”

“Yeah, they’ve got it all. Money, grades, sports. Top of the high school food chain.”

“So who’s their number one?”

“That’d be Zack Evans,” says Ian. Dan looks over at Zack, who’s a tall kid with spiked brown hair. Zack sits at the center of the table, flanked by his disciples. “Yup, he’s at the top. Quarterback or something. Whatever that 'popular kid' position is.”

“You don’t follow football?”

“What? Us? Nah, we just play hacky sack… skateboard on occasion… maybe play some Tekken at Ryan’s house.”

“Nice.”

“You into hacky sack?”

Dan sighs. “No, not really.”

“No problem,” says Ryan. “Just come hang out. Throw out your lunch, and let’s go.” Ryan crumbles up his lunch into a ball and chucks it at the trash can twenty feet away. He sinks the shot. “Score.”

Dan does likewise, but as his lunch flies toward the trash can, his discarded apple core spirals out of the lunch bag, and hits the head of a fat kid with a buzz cut.

“Jeeze,” says Dan. “Who did I hit?”

“That’s Joey,” says Ian. “A fat kid with nothing to lose.”

Dan realizes too late that Joey was sitting in the poor section of the cafeteria. “Oh crap.”

Joey rises to his feet and walks toward the boys. “You throw that, punk?” he says to Justin.

Justin doesn’t meet his glare. “I didn’t see nuthin’. I was tying my shoe.”

“You! New kid! You wanna be startin’ something?”

“Take it easy, Jackson. I was just tossing out my lunch.” Dan rises from the table, as he assesses the situation. All eyes in the cafeteria are on him and Joey. Dan notices a hot girl looking at him, and he cracks a smile.

“Something funny, punk?”

“Just you. See, I happened to notice that your underwear was stickin’ up out of the back of your pants. Now, if they were boxers, it probably wouldn’t be that funny. But briefs, white ones especially, are the funniest kind of underwear.”

At the edge of the cafeteria, Jake and D-Man are watching while leaning on their respective brooms. Jake nudges D-Man. “See, I told you briefs were funnier. Pay up.”

“Is that a fact?” asks Joey.

Dan smirks again. “That’s a fact.”

Joey takes a swing, and Dan ducks with Joel Riggins-type stealth. He snatches up a nearby tray and swings its contents into Joey’s face. The girl’s at the adjacent table get splattered as well.

The action pauses as mashed potatoes and pudding drip down over Joey’s bulbous face. “You…”

Jake takes advantage of the cafeteria’s silence. “FOOD FIGHT!” D-Man looks Jake while shaking his head. “Hey, someone had to say it.”

Dan ducks, and the food flies over his head. The tension of the first day of school explodes, as the white trash kids go to war with the skaters, and everyone gets caught in the crossfire.

“Yes!” says Jake. “This is what I’m talking about!”

“You realize we’re the ones who have to clean this up?” says D-Man. But Jake is already gone, tearing off his clothes and flinging chocolate pudding like a monkey throwing its own feces. D-Man sighs as a splotch of mashed potatoes and gravy hits him in the face and covers his sunglasses.

Dan crawls through the chaos, making his way over to D-Man. “So, you making friends?” asks D-Man.

Dan shrugs. “I’m working on it.”

Mr. Popular part 1: Back to School

2007-10-28T20:23:00.000-04:00

Dan steps out of the van with a shaky confidence. He looks back over his shoulder, where D-Man and Jake are nodding in unison. Dan turns his attention forward, taking in the sight of dozens of high school students arriving on their first day.

Dan takes a deep breath and walks forward, his knuckles white with inner tension. They’re all watching, he thinks. They’re all judging. And as Dan loses himself to his thoughts, his right shoulder grazes Timmy the Freshman. Dan stops in his tracks, and turns. His eyes zero in on Timmy’s acne, his tucked-in shirt, and the slight wheeze in his breathing. Dan lets out a battle cry as he pulls back a fist. Timmy begins to scream as well, as Dan’s fist collides with his face and nocks him to the ground.

Dan whispers through gritted teeth: “Fuck nerds.”

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Jake stands behind the chain-link fence at Milford Skatepark, watching a girl laughing with her friends. Jake’s face twists into a look of pain mixed with relief as he watches her toss her hair over her shoulder. Suddenly, Jake zips up his fly and walks back to the half-pipe where Dan and D-Man are talking.

“All I’m saying is, that if I were who I am now back then… that things would’ve turned out differently.”

“You really think you’re that cool right now?”

“Not compared with people my age,” says Dan. “But compared with high school kids? I would be the man.”

Jake interrupts. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Well,” says D-Man. “Dan and I were talking about the party last weekend…”

“You mean the one at Baker’s house? It was great. I got to expose myself to a couple of young sweethearts.”

“Anyway,” D-Man stops and looks at Jake in disgust. “Anyway, Dan was saying that if he went to high school as he is now, he’d be one of the cool kids.”

“Well, it’s not like we couldn’t put that to the test.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I know a guy at the RMV…”

“You mentioned him.”

“He’s good with paperwork. Sets me up with fake credentials all the time. Remember when I taught CPR to those boy scouts?”

“Didn’t you get sued for that?”

“We settled. Anyway, you’re missing the point. Daniel, I can set you up at a high school of your choosing… make it look like you’re a real student.”

“Well, he certainly looks the part.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying you look like a twelve-year-old boy.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

Jake interrupts. “So listen, we set you up as a student, and me and D-Man can get jobs at the school to keep an eye on things.”

“Sounds like a lot of work. What’re my goals, though? What do I need to do?”

“Become the most popular kid in school.”

“And how do we measure that? Get everyone to chant my name?”

“That… and have sex with the most popular girl in school,” says D-Man. “We’ll vote on it when we get to the school.”

Jake thinks on it. “…And he has to knock out a nerd.”

“What?”

“You have to knock out a nerd. Dan, high school is like prison; you either take someone out, or you become someone’s bitch.” Jake shrugs. “I don’t make the rules.”

“So I guess the best place for it would be… at Fairview High School. People might recognize you if you went back to Milford High School.”

“Sure,” Dan responds. He scowls for a minute. “Y’know, I didn’t know Fairview even had a high school.”

“I didn’t even know there was a Fairview, Massachusetts,” says Jake.

“Of course there is. It’s between Upton and Mendon,” says D-Man with a smirk. “But we have to set a time limit, here.”

“Well, I start grad school in a month.”

“Perfect. You have one month. You sleep with the most popular girl, chosen by all of us, and you get your name chanted by at least a dozen people at the same time. First and/or last name.”

“And he has to beat up a nerd.”

“Alright,” says D-Man. “We have two weeks to get you ready. You know what I’m thinkin’?”

“Montage?”

“What music do you want? We’ve got ‘Eye of the Tiger,’ from Rocky… ‘You’re the Best’ from Karate Kid…”

“This is serious, D-Man. We can’t be fooling around.” Jake pulls out a mix tape. “‘Push it to the Limit’ from Scarface.”

MONTAGE

Dan runs on the treadmill in the gym as D-Man checks his stopwatch. Jake is busy watching a girl running on another treadmill while nodding.

Dan sits at a desk, furiously doodling cartoon penises.

Dan hits a punching bag.

Dan reads Archie comics.

D-Man shows Dan blown-up photographs of Britney Spears and Hannah Montana. D-Man shakes his head as he points to Britney, then nods as he points to Hannah.

Dan ducks and dodges as he boxes Jake. Dan punches him in the balls, and Jake falls to the mat. Dan raises his arms in victory, and then Jake punches Dan in the balls from the floor. Dan falls.

Dan watches The Sara Silverman Program while taking notes.

Dan falls asleep as Jake points to a chart that lists all of the high school groups, with chess club at the bottom, and football at the top. Jake whips out his Zippo, and hums it at Dan’s head.

Dan stands crouched, with boxing gloves on his fists. A cardboard cutout of Howie Long pops up, and Dan pulls back a punch but stops. A cutout of Harry Potter pops up, and Dan punches its head off.

Dan walks toward the bathroom with a Playboy Vixens porno. Jake stops him, and shakes his head. Jake takes the porno, and hands Dan a Barely Legal magazine.

Dan runs on the treadmill with ease, as Jake and D-Man nod at each other.

Fade out.

“Alright, let me check your teeth,” says D-Man, as he grabs Dan by the chin.

“You know, maybe we shoulda trained me to pick up chicks, rather than spending so much time on the whole boxing thing.”

“Don’t trash the boxing thing, Danny Boy. It made for a much better montage.”

D-Man uses a flashlight to check Dan’s eyes. “No one can argue that. Now, what’s your favorite radio station?”

“WAAF?”

“No! Kiss 108!”

“Right, right.” Dan nods his head.

“And what do you think about Britney Spears?”

“Who the hell is Britney Spears?”

“Good. Now Jake and I will be posing as janitors, just to make sure things go smoothly. If you need anything, just puke on the floor.”

Jake: “Now remember, the second you see a nerd, you come out swingin’.”

“Right.”

Jake holds up a bucket. “Okay, now spit." Dan spits. "Do you need to see the cool chart again?”

“Show him the chart.”

Jake holds up the chart.

“Remember: Nothing, NOTHING, is cooler than drunk sex.”

“The ol’ sloppy bop. Got it.” Dan scowls. “Hey Jake, do girls have a cool chart?”

“No, they have a hotness scale. Works different.”

“Alright, man. Crowds are forming. Time to make your entrance,” says D-Man.

The van door slides open, and Dan’s feet hit the pavement. The world slows as his adrenaline kicks in. He walks forward with a finite level of conviction. The nerds, the jocks, the punks, the Goths, the artists, the bullies… they all stare as Dan makes his way toward the front steps.

Dan’s shoulder brushes past a nerd. The nerd turns to look at Dan, and begins to speak. Dan looks at him with fear bordering on rage. Dan grits his teeth and pulls back his fist.
The nerd’s face goes pale with fear. Dan clocks him, and the nerd falls to the pavement like a sack of dirt.

Jake and D-Man watch the scene from the van. “He’s growing up so fast.”

The Legend of Joel Riggins: Epilogue

2007-10-21T15:31:00.000-04:00

“…And that’s how Joel Riggins broke up the biggest party in Milford, after having sex with two sluts, a whore, and a fat chick.”

Dan's audience at the Milford Skatepark has now grown to about a half-dozen twelve to sixteen-year-old skater boys. D-Man sits to his right, chuckling about the last chapter of the story.

“I don’t get it,” says the smallest kid, sitting by Dan’s left foot. “How come Donnie never finishes that Al Pacino quote?”

“You mean ‘’Cause she got a--’? Well,” Dan rubs his face. “I guess it’s his way of keeping everyone on their toes. I didn’t really intend to make Al Pacino such a big part of the story… but, you can’t rightfully understand Donnie Savia without him.”

“So did Joel really have sex with his Uncle Timmy?” asks another kid in the audience.

“Can’t say for sure,” says Dan. “Y’see, that’s what makes Joel Riggins so fascinating. He’s just a cheery kinda guy, whether he’s sober or drunk. It’s hard to pinpoint when he’s actually serious… but then again, he rarely ever is, and that’s what makes him so fun to be around.”

“Did you just say ‘Joel Riggins’?” asks a girl from behind Dan. Dan and the boys look over at the nineteen-year-old sweetheart, who has the look and overall disposition of a woman who generally hates men.

“Yeah,” says Dan. “You know him?”

The girl rolls her eyes and walks off. Dan turns his attention back to the group. “Yup, not everyone fully appreciates Joel and Donnie… and those people that don’t are usually big into morals, monogamy… you know, tight-laced societal bullshit.”

“Where are Joel and Donnie now? Whatever happened to those guys?”

“Well, legend has it that Joel is up north somewhere, living the clean life. But don’t worry about him. If I know Joel, he’s certainly still his jovial self, givin’ girl’s the ol’ googlies, and diddling whatever comes by. ...And as for Donnie, well, the last I heard, he was having sex with strippers. …But if you’re ever in a bar in Massachusetts, and you hear someone scream ‘John Anthony!’… you’ll know Donnie isn’t far.”

Dan leans back, starring at the horizon in the distance. “I don’t know about you, but it warms my heart to know that guys like Joel and Donnie are out there. They’re womanizers… sexual predators. Taking advantage of women at every opportunity. Misogyny at its finest. It’s comforting to know that even though nice kids like me can’t successfully corrupt young women, and turn polite virgins into trashy whores, that there are plenty of guys who can.” Dan shakes his head. “What a brilliant crew…”

“Really?” asks D-Man.

“No, they were idiots. But man… they did it well.” Dan rises to his feet. “C’mon, D-Man. We’ve gotta get back to our adventures. I’ve been telling this Joel Riggins story for so long, I feel like people might’ve forgotten that you, me, and Jake are actually the main characters here.”

The skater kids watch Dan and D-Man depart. The smallest kid suddenly breaks the silence: “’CAUSE SHE GOT A--!”

* * *

At the nearby 7-Eleven, Caitlin Briggs gets out of her car and walks toward the front of the store. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, and a baggy, pink T-shirt that reads: “I ‘hung out’ with J.R. and D.S.” As she arrives at the door, Caitlin’s fifteen-year-old cousin comes walking out, wearing the exact same shirt. The two girls stop as they see each other.

…And somewhere, Donnie Savia is smiling.

NEXT WEEK: THE REGULAR CAST RETURNS FOR AN ALL-NEW ADVENTURE

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 16: Party at Baker’s House

2007-10-19T02:09:00.000-04:00

“WHERE ARE THE HOOKERS?!” screams Joel, as he explodes through the front door of Baker’s house.

Teenagers and young adults, no older than twenty-five, fill the two-story suburban home to the brim, eagerly suckling at the golden teat of inebriation. A large stereo in the living room blasts an eclectic playlist of music to every corner of the house, and a beer keg on the elevated back porch keeps inhibitions to a minimum.

They’re all there. Everyone. Bill Stevens is there, along with his entire painting crew. Brian Rix is there, his nose already looking like a powdered donut. Andy Fleischmann is there, blacked-out and searching for his missing glasses. Fontana, Rizzo, and the rest of the poker night goons are there as well. Caitlin, Jamie, Joann, and whole list of loose women looking to get drunk enough to have guilt-free sex… they’re all there. Hell, even Joel’s first girlfriend Amy is there, with her boyfriend, Chris Evans. And now, newly arrived into this den of hedonism is Joel Riggins and Donnie Savia, with Jack and Dan in tow. The party begins here.

Joel leans over to hit on a high school girl dressed like a fifty-dollar whore. “You single?” he asks.

“Umm, I have a boyfriend.”

Unfortunately for her, Joel’s cleverness has faded into the night, along with his sense of moderation and sobriety. “Fuck him!” he shouts.

Joel saunters off, in search of his next encounter. He finds Ted Baker, the owner of the house, and throws his arm around him. “Now Baker, you’re gonna hear a lot of stories about me starting this party…”

“This was you, Riggins? I just got home a half hour ago to find my house overflowing with people.”

“Hey, all I did was make a few calls.”

* * *

Donnie slaps Jack and Dan on their backs at the same time, nearly knocking them both over. “It’s time to step up and take what’s yours,” he says. Donnie walks into the heart of the crowd, screaming “’Cause she got a—!”

“This is one hell of a setup, huh Daniel?” says Jack.

Bill steps up to the boys, and shakes Jack’s hand. “This your cousin, guy?”

“Yup. Daniel, this is Bill Stevens.”

Dan shakes his hand. “Good shit, kid,” says Bill. “You get any womb recently?”

“Been about a month,” says Dan.

“Well, get to work tonight, guy.” Bill casts his eye out over the sea of teenage sluts. “It’s pretty OBVIOUS there’s gonna be some sex tonight.” A small gaggle of girls looks at Bill with disgust. “That’s right, sweetheart. You heard me.”

Jack notices Sean Finnerty standing at the edge of the crowd. “Hey, there’s Sean.” He nudges Dan. “I’m gonna go make fun of his T-shirt.”

“Okay, Jack,” says Dan.

“I’m telling you, guy. It’s a great conversation starter.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna find another kind of conversation starter,” he says, as he walks in the direction of the keg.

* * *

“Irreplaceable” by Beyonce blasts over the stereo, and Rizzo begins to shout over the noise. “TO THE LEFT! TO THE LEFT!”

“How’re you doin’, Emily?” asks Joel to a small, intellectual-looking chick.

“Swell,” she responds.

“Yeah, tell me about it. That girl wasn’t as clean as she said she was.” He pauses. “Whoa, did I just say that out loud? Don’t mind me, Emily. You see, I know a good relationship when I can comfortably talk about my STDs.”

“Thanks for that, Joel.” Emily searches for her next comment. “So… when was your last physical?”

“By a doctor?” asks Joel. “Jeeze. All I remember is when I turned my head and coughed, the doctor said ‘What the hell is that?’”

Nearby, two people are debating the outcome of the last Red Sox game: “…it’s ‘cause they got Derek Jeter…”

“Fuck Jeter!”

Joel returns his attention to Emily. “Did you know I used to be friends with Kevin Youkilis?”

Emily shakes her head.

“…Yeah, I knew Youkilis. He and I went to camp together. I diddled him. He called his mom, and things ended real quick.”

* * *

Jack continues his conversation with Sean. “You see these threads, Sean. Jack Lyons is stylin’ these days.”

Andy Fleischmann stumbles into the exchange. “Hey Jack,” he says. “Do you have my glasses? Are they intact?”

“No, but ah…” Jack looks at Andy’s arm, which is in a sling. “What happened to your arm? You dislocate it or something?”

Andy looks down. “Oh yeah, umm… I dislocated it last night. I rolled over the wrong way in my bed. Hey lissen, I’ll catch up with you later. I gotta find my glasses.”

“Sure thing, pal.” Andy staggers off. “Who knew that that could happen?” Jack asks Sean. “Dislocating your shoulder in your sleep…”

* * *

Meanwhile, Dan has caught up with Jake Alberts, an old friend from college. “…So, we’ll see if anyone notices the missing stop signs,” says Jake. “But this is a sweet setup they got here. Look,” Jake picks up a red balloon. “They even got balloons.”

On the other side of the room, Joel is waving a yellow balloon over his head. “HEY!” he shouts. “THIS IS THE COLOR OF MY LEFT TESTICLE!”

“Yup,” says Dan. “That’s Joel Riggins. You should meet him, Jake. He urinates in public, just like you.”

“Well, then he’s okay in my book.”

“Hey, I see someone I should say ‘hi’ to.” Dan walks off.

Jake wanders forward into a small cluster of underage girls. He pushes his penis through his open fly, while nodding at the girls. “So I’m just gonna put this out there,” he says.

Dan works his way across the room, and notices a familiar face. “Hey! I haven’t seen you since high school! You’re the popular kid, right?” Pause. “What was your name again?”

“Chris Evans,” he says flatly.

“Chris Evans! Right!” Dan turns and walks off. “Well, I certainly fucked that one up,” he says to himself.

* * *

“It was an amazing sunrise, I tell ya,” says Joel, who’s now talking to a small group of college kids. “…Granted we were on acid at the time.” The guys laugh. “But hey, I wasn’t kiddin’ when I showed up here… we really need to get some hookers in here. Good, cheap ones, too. Hookers with shit falling off of them. Give ‘em the ol’ thousand-pound hand, so they can go hog on your hammer.” He’s got his audience in the palm of his hand. “…Maybe even give ‘em the ol’ ‘sorry sweetie,’ and stick it in the wrong hole.” Laughter ensues.

Three feet away, Donnie is on his cell phone, trying to close a deal with an escort. “So, I could put you in three scenes, but you’d have to go doggy in at least one of them. Hello?” He snaps his phone shut. “JOHN ANTHONY!” he shouts. As the partygoers look at him questioningly, Donnie shrugs. “It just came to me.”

Dan resumes his conversation with a young but very attractive female. “Who the hell is John Anthony?” she asks.

“He’s nobody. It’s just a line from the Al Pacino movie, Two for the Money. Probably the greatest sports betting movie of all time. Yup,” Dan continues, “Donnie loves shouting those lines from Al Pacino movies.”

“You’d think that he’d pick a more well-known movie, though. Like Godfather or Scarface.”

“Yeah, but that would be so conventional.”

“Does Donnie live here?”

“Nope. I’m not sure if Donnie has his own place.”

“Well, where does he sleep?”

“Who says he sleeps?”

“Where does he have sex?”

“Everywhere!” says Donnie with a smile, as he interrupts the conversation. “Don’t worry about this kid," he says, patting Dan on the back while addressing the girl. "He just turned 21. And he’s a virgin.”

“Thanks, Donnie,” says Dan with a grimace.

Donnie starts laughing. “What happened to your girlfriend? You know, that pale, Viking chick?”

“She’s not my—” Dan stops himself. “Oh, forget it.” He walks off.

Somewhere in the background, Rizzo shouts “Rats!”

Donnie continues talking to the underage girl: “So, what perfume are you wearing?”

“It’s Chanel.”

“What number?”

“That would be telling,” she says coyly.

Jack pats Dan on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Daniel. We all know Donnie’s an asshole. Just look at him.” Dan watches as Donnie makes the girl laugh, while slipping his hand into her back pocket like a leash.

“It’s what he does,” says Jack. “I can only imagine what it’ll be like when he has kids of his own.” He catches Dan’s eye and points at him. “…Because you and I both know that Donnie will breed.”

Dan laughs. “Hey,” he says. “I didn’t know this place had a pool.”

* * *

Elsewhere, a bunch of the boys at the party have popped a copy of “Girls Gone Wild” into the VCR, and watch as a bunch of coeds shake their fun bags in public for free T-shirts. Joel catches a glimpse of the screen. “Man, those girls have gone wild!”

Nearby, Bill is defending his sexuality. “What, you think just ‘cause I had sex with someone in the dark means I can’t call myself a straight man?”

Suddenly, a fat kid named Ryan teeters forward, and passes out on the coffee table. Bill snaps his fingers, and two of his underlings pick up Ryan and drag him out to the garage.

Joel, unflinching, continues to watch TV. “Man, those girls have gone wild!”

Bill stands over Ryan’s passed out body. “Alright, boys. Let’s roll ‘em up.” The guys bust out paint cans and rollers, and begin to paint every inch of Ryan’s blubbery shape. Bill flicks his cigarette ash at the garage floor. “Get under those folds, kid. Let’s not mess around here.”

* * *

In the upstairs bathroom, the underage girl Donnie was just flirting with is bent over the counter, as he rails her from behind.

“Ow, ow, ow…” she repeats with every thrust.

Donnie leans down next to her ear, and whispers: “I don’t care that I’m hurting you.”

* * *

“Who invited the UPS guy?” asks Amy Carrigan, as she watches Jack walk down the back porch steps.

Jack, who’s wearing all brown, looks himself over, and responds, “What can brown do for you?”

Amy laughs, and the tension breaks. “So what’re you doing here, Amy?” asks Jack.

“Oh, I’m just tagging along with Chris Evans.”

“Chris Evans? The football jock?”

“Yeah, well, I can’t always be dating guys like Joel Riggins.”

“Well, he did play soccer. Was pretty damn good at it, too. Coulda been a pro.”

The conversation is interrupted by Andy Fleischmann, who stumbles down the porch steps with a cup of beer in each hand. He trips as he arrives at the bottom, spilling both beers on Amy’s white outfit. Without a word, he rises, and lurches off, like some runaway train of destruction.

Amy is soaked and speechless. “Oh. My. God. What the hell?! Who was that?!”

Jack helps her to her feet. “Don’t worry about him. That was Andy Fleischmann. Andy’s like California a few years back, with his rolling black outs.”

“What?”

“It’s topical humor. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey Lyons!” shouts Bill from the garage. “Get over here, kid! Check this out!”

Jack enters the garage through the back door, to see Bill and his crew standing over a fully painted, passed-out fat kid.

“Oh my goodness,” says Jack. “He looks like Powder!”

“Yeah, guy. C’mon. Let’s get this mess out to the front lawn.”

* * *

Jane Pincus stands near the back of the house, leaning against a wall and looking out onto the porch. She notices Dan talking to a pale redheaded girl. Jake walks up next to Jane, bumping out a cigarette from a half-empty pack. “Hey,” she says to Jake. “Who’s that guy over there?”

“What, him? That’s Dan. I think he’s dating that Viking chick.”

Dan stands on the back porch, leaning on the railing as he talks to Joann. “So there was Joel, pulling his pee-stained recliner out the front door of his house. Keep in mind that he had no pants on. So everyone driving up Birch Street caught a glimpse of his bare ass.”

Joann chuckles, but it’s subdued. “That’s Riggins for ya,” she says.

“Check out Andy Fleischmann.” Dan nods his head at Andy, who’s standing on the opposite site of the pool in a stupor. “JIMMAAYY!” Dan shouts, echoing Joel’s previous lesson.

Andy looks up at Dan, and instinctively walks toward him. He walks directly into the deep end of the pool, without missing a beat. Laughter erupts from the backyard, as Andy sinks like a stone to the bottom of the pool.

Joann tugs at Dan’s sleeve. “Could you get me another beer?” she asks.

“What am I, your servant? Go fuck yourself.” He walks off, then backtracks. “…So what kind do you want?”

* * *

Joel and Rix sit on the couch, as Joel regurgitates one of many stories from his past: “So me and Donnie were going to town on those two girls in the parking lot, in the back seat of two different cars parked next to each other. It was summer, so the windows were rolled down, and me and Donnie did a high five through the open windows.”

“I gotta say, Riggins, that’s impressive. How did you guys get the extension to do a high five?”

“Just told the girls to put it in their mouths.”

“Good thinking.”

“Hey Riggins!” calls Jack from the back door. “Come help me with these brushes.”

Joel walks into the garage, where Bill is cranking butts, and Jack is rinsing off paintbrushes with gasoline. “Hey now,” says Joel. “It’s my day off, here.”

“Relax, guy,” says Bill. “We just painted a passed-out kid, and I need these brushes cleaned before they harden.” Bill flicks his cigarette ash at Jack. “Hurry it up, guy. I don’t got all night.”

“Bill, you realize that this is gasoline, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“Little Red Corvette” by Prince comes on the party stereo, and Joel tosses a few brushes under the stream of gasoline. “Are you kidding me, guy?” says Joel. “Are they really playing Prince?”

“Ah, it’s not so bad, Riggins,” says Jack. “He’s kinda like Michael Jackson.”

“Don’t make that comparison, Lyons. Prince is nothing like Mike.”

“Actually,” Bill interrupts. “Prince is a respectable artist.”

* * *

Rix and Dan stand outside of the upstairs bathroom, where a small line has formed. The door is locked, and the rhythmic sounds of a girl moaning come from within.

“Daisy…” says Rix to Dan. “…That’s a good one. Umm…” he thinks, “Twinkle toes… that’s another one.” He furrows his brow. “I dunno, Danny. I got tons of good one-liners.”

Suddenly, the bathroom door swings open, and Donnie emerges with the girl he just violated. Her underwear is turned inside out, as she walks, bowlegged, down the stairs. Donnie, who has a small streak of blood on the bottom edge of his T-shirt, shrugs as he looks at the crowd outside the door. “She was puking,” he says. “I was holding her hair.”

Minutes later, Donnie is explaining himself to Rix and Dan.

“You had sex with who?” asks Rix.

“Guy, you remember Catherine Fiore?”

“Yeah, isn’t she like 19?”

“Well, I just banged her younger sister in the bathroom.”

“I didn’t even know she had a younger sister.”

Donnie wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“You wanna do an eight ball?” asks Rix.

“Absolutely,” says Donnie.

“You comin’, Danny?” asks Rix.

“I’ll come with, but I can’t be doing that stuff.”

“You fucking loser,” says Donnie.

“Back off, Donnie. Danny’s a good kid,” says Rix. “Not like us dirtbags.”

* * *

Joel rinses his hands off in the kitchen sink. “They still smell like gasoline,” he says to Jack, who’s rummaging through the fridge.

“Yeah, well, that’s Bill for ya.” Jack pulls out a piece of salmon. “Ooo. This’ll do just fine.” He slaps the cold salmon on top of a slice of leftover pizza and tosses it into the microwave.

“Lyons…” says Joel. “What the hell is that?”

“Just a little salmon on top of my pizza. Should give me a good insulin rush before bed.”

“You’re disgusting.” Joel snatches another beer from the fridge, and walks off.

“Hey,” says Jack to a random kid. “Let’s have a heart-to-heart.”

In the background, two men restrain their friend as he looks aggressively at another man. “I didn’t mean it as a racist comment! He really does have a huge watermelon head!”

Joel notices Fontana, and makes his way over to him. “I’m tellin’ ya, Fontana, I’m not gonna be satisfied unless I get a little rub and tug tonight. Maybe even a little poke and thrust.”

“Well, there’s always girls like her…” He points to the family room, where an overweight girl is dancing on the coffee table, her sweaty hogs flopping all over the place.

“What’re you, out of your tree? Smarten up. I’m bangin’ skinny chicks now. I’m not taking a backslide into that mess.” Joel looks around curiously. “Jack said that Amy Carrigan was around here somewhere…”

“I think she came with Chris Evans,” says Fontana.

“Fuck him.” Joel’s tiny eyes scan the party. “Amy, Amy, Amy… Never thought I’d be drawing water from that well again…”

* * *

“…So it turns out she was a prostitute,” says Rix, as he finishes a line of coke.

Donnie responds as he leans in. “Yeah… who hasn’t had that experience…” he says, without the slightest trace of sarcasm.

Dan sits on the closed toilet lid, looking out the back window. “Well, Andy’s down to his underwear now.”

“Yeah, that kid’s a real shit show,” says Rix.

“Hey Rix,” says Donnie. “You should try a Dragon’s Fang sometime.”

“What’s that?”

“You take a Morphine pill, crush it up, and sprinkle it into a hot chocolate.”

“You’re really into Morphine these days, aren’t you Savia?”

“So Daniel,” says Donnie, turning his attention to the only non-drug user of the group. “How’s Viking boobs?” Donnie immediately laughs at his own joke.

“Same old lethargic attitude.”

“Ooo, Danny, breakin’ out the big words,” says Rix. “You write?”

“Occasionally,” says Dan.

“Yeah guy,” says Donnie. “Daniel’s a writer. He’s gonna write a story about all of us.” Donnie leans over, and grabs Dan by the shirt. “You better make me famous, god dammit,” he whispers through gritted teeth.

* * *

“Joel Riggins,” says Amy sardonically. “You look a mess. Did someone’s father chase you out of his house again?”

“Why do you always have to assume the worst? Can’t I just be drunk?”

“You’re a dirtbag.”

“Thank you?”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

The conversation is interrupted momentarily, as someone shouts, “GET HIM AWAY FROM ME! HE KEEPS TRYING TO HAVE A HEART-TO-HEART!”

“So,” says Joel. “Chris Evans. Since when did you go for the popular jocks?”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you Joel?”

“I know you well enough. I know you like the fun guy. The guy who can make you laugh. They guy who can make sex fun…” He begins unbuttoning her shirt.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Don't worry about it."

* * *

Andy stumbles into the kitchen, wearing only his briefs. His darkened eyes scan the room like the Terminator, and zero-in on the half-finished bottle of cheap Vodka on the kitchen counter. Just as he grasps the bottle, Chris Evans stops him. “I think you’ve had enough, pal. Look at yourself.”

Jack comes up from behind, and pulls Chris back. “Listen!” he barks. “This kid’s a good friend of mine! I’LL tell YOU when he’s ‘HAD ENOUGH’!”

* * *

Minutes later, Donnie is back downstairs in the heart of the party, coaching Jack on his Al Pacino impersonation. His head swivels back and forth, as he holds out a loose fist with the knuckle of his pinky finger slightly extended. “No, you gotta say it just right. You gotta say it like Al Pacino says it.” He lowers his voice, and gives it a gravely intonation. “I've got three dead bodies on a sidewalk of Venice Boulevard, …I'm sorry if the goddamn... chicken... got overcooked.”

* * *

Bill sits on the front stoop, taking a drag on his cigarette and talking to Dan. “You know what you gotta do, Danny? You gotta hit up one a’them Asian massage parlors. There’s this place in Boston… You can pick any girl, and just go hog on ‘em. Give ‘em the fuckin’ COCK GAGGA guy.”

“What the hell is a cock gagga?”

Bill stands and arches his back, clenching his fists at waist level, and swinging his hips back and forth. “UUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

Dan nods. “That explains it.”

Bill sits back down, eyeing a Ford Escort pull into the driveway. “Who’s this clown?” he asks.

* * *

Meanwhile, Andy is slumped facedown in the backyard, muttering softly to himself. “What ‘appened to my glasses? I just wanna see, man… I just wanna see…” As he repeats this mantra to himself, a small group of Bill’s workers empty a bag of ice cubes into his underwear.

A few yards away, Joel sucks on Amy’s face, their lips massaging each other, and their tounges sparring like boxers. He lays her down in the bushes by the side of the house. She puts her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. “I’m on my period,” she says.

Joel pulls her ripcord. “So?”

A few feet above them, inside the house, Chris Evans is looking out the widow onto the lawn. It isn’t anger that builds within him, but defeat. His attention is jarred by Donnie Savia, who is slamming his fist into his sternum with monster truck force.

“See? That’s that hollow, rib cage sound.” He slams his chest again, and the sound echoes above the music.

Nearby, a girl with a lisp interjects: “Thith one likes to thump his chest.”

Donnie feels all eyes on him, so he takes advantage of the moment with another Al Pacino quote: “’CAUSE SHE GOT A--!”

Dan approaches Donnie. “Have you seen Jack? I can’t find him.”

“I haven’t seen Jack, but I have seen John,” says Donnie, while motioning toward Jack. Jack is leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, swaying gently back and forth. “John is who your cousin becomes when he’s blacked out. I’d stay away, though. He’s a dangerous character with a mean left hook.”

Dan watches Jack, as someone wanders a little too close. Jack takes a powerful swing, and lays the kid out.

“Jeezey Creezey,” Dan whispers to himself.

* * *

On the other side of the room, Amy reenters the house, tossing her cigarette behind her. She stops for a moment to pull the underwear out of the crack in her ass, then grabs her date by the arm. “C’mon, Chris,” she says. “Drive me home.”

Outside, sitting in the bushes, Joel blows his cigarette smoke into the night air. His appetites abated, Joel swims in contentment. Suddenly, a Shaw’s value club card, with Joel’s name embossed on it, lands at his feet.

“Looking for this?” says a man in the shadows.

Joel looks up. “Who…?”

“You might not know me, but I sure as hell know you.” The man steps out from the shadows. “Joel. Thomas. Riggins. Local dirtbag.” The man’s face doesn’t ring a bell, but his words do: “Let me take you back, Riggins. Wednesday night. The China Panda restaurant.”

A haze is lifted, and Joel’s mind flashes back to that night. He remembers going to the Chinese restaurant. He remembers his over-the-top karaoke performance of “Son of a Preacher Man,” as he swung his shirt wildly over his head. He even remembers Andy Fleischmann, offending the management with one phrase: “No wonder Communism failed!” And then there were the bachelorettes. A whole flock of them. And Joel’s libido getting the better of him. Controlling him. Usurping him. Directing him to the surest sex, regardless of looks, and even gender.

“Jennifer Buckley…” Joel whispers to himself.

“That’s right, Riggins. Jennifer Buckley. The woman you slept with three nights ago. I’m Todd Riley. And Jennifer… was my fiancée, you sorry son of a bitch. I’m calling you out, asshole. You think you could be a total man-whore and not get caught? You think you could live your entire life without any consequences? Huh?”

“Well… yeah.”

“You’re shit, Riggins. Everything you are, and everything you touch.”

“And what makes you and yours so god damned special, huh? Living your life for tomorrow, and never for now. Your entire life is lived in fear of consequence, just so that someday, maybe, you’ll be rewarded for it. Forget that… and forget you. I live for now, god dammit. And I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Todd takes a swing at Joel, but Joel dodges with the reflexes of a cheetah, and sprints in the opposite direction toward the front yard.

Bill, still on the front stoop, perks up as he sees Joel run by. “What’s up, guy?”

Joel shouts a few choice words: “Trying… to… kill… me…”

Bill watches Todd sprint from the side of the house. Bill holds out his arm, and clotheslines Joel’s pursuer. Todd gets the wind knocked out of him, landing flat on his back. Bill pulls him up by his shirt. “You got a problem, guy?” Bill cracks Todd across the face. “You got a problem with Riggins, you got a problem with me, son.” He continues to wail on Todd, as the party empties out of the house. Jennifer leaps into the scuffle, screaming for Bill to stop.

Rix takes in the scene, and mutters, “Well, this party’s over.” His sentiment is confirmed by the approaching sound of police sirens.

Bill is restrained by his crew, and Jennifer begins screaming at her fiancé through tear-filled eyes.

Rix raises his voice to the crowd at the outer edge of the fight. “Who wants to do some lines back at my place?” And with that, the party breaks up, and its members leave with a sense of urgency.

Dan grabs his cousin Jack by the collar of his brown polo shirt. “Pull yourself together, Jack. We gotta get outta here.”

Jack mutters, “I’ll… piss up your nose…”

As a girl from the party settles into the passenger seat of her friend’s car, she screams at the sight of Donnie Savia’s cock and balls pressed against the window. Donnie laughs to himself as he puts his package away, leaving a clear imprint on the glass in the shape of a rocket ship.

“Hey Donnie!” shouts Joel. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“Sure.”

The two boys walk off down the road. “I can’t believe you ran, guy. What a pussy.”

“Ya sister’s tits. Fights are pointless, guy. They only last for like, two seconds before someone breaks ‘em up. I say run, and live to fight another day.”

* * *

Back at the house, the police finally arrive. The two squad cars park in the street, and the cops knock on the front door. “Hello? Milford Police. We’re coming in.”

The two cops enter the house, and look at the devastation. Beer cans litter the carpets, and broken glass is everywhere. Cartoon penises have been drawn on almost every surface. In the family room, the sound of a Seinfeld rerun blasts on the TV.

“Shut that off, will ya?” says one of the cops. Suddenly, Andy comes staggering into the house from the back porch, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs filled with ice. “Poor bastard,” says the cop. “He’ll be sterile for a week.”

The other cop switches off the TV in the family room, where three of Bill’s workers have passed out, including another kid painted white. One of the boys wakes up as the TV goes off.

“What? You’re not gonna let me watch Seinfeld?” he asks.

* * *

Joel and Donnie continue their walk down the street. “Well, I gotta say… they don’t get much better than that.”

“That’s right, guy. Too bad I didn’t give out any of those T-shirts we had made. Y'know, spread the franchise.”

“Well, there’s always next weekend.” Joel nudges him. “Come on. Let’s go to Lyons’ house and play some Street Fighter II.”

“Now you’re talkin’,” says Donnie. They walk on, into the night. “’CAUSE SHE GOT A--!”

NEXT: EPILOGUE (ONE YEAR LATER)

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 15: The Contra Affair

2007-10-17T19:34:00.002-04:00

Contra is an up-scale restaurant, bar, and pool hall in the heart of Franklin. It’s just the kind of place where you’d expect to see bankers in their late twenties and thirties throwing back a few with their fiancés and wives. Yes, it’s an up-scale establishment all right, with dim lighting, expensive drinks, and pretty waitresses in tight black dresses ferrying drinks between the bar and the pool tables. Unfortunately for them, the serene atmosphere will not continue for much longer.

Joel’s black Honda Accord pulls into an adjacent parking lot, blasting “Do it to It” by Cherish. Joel cuts the engine, and the boys emerge from the vehicle like soldiers about to take a battlefield. Joel rubs his hands together in anticipation, his mind racing with pick-up lines and clever comments that are playfully offensive. Donnie is on his cell phone, securing his next lay. He snaps it shut as he walks toward Contra, and pats Jack on the back. “Let’s see these sluts,” he says to Jack.

Jack falls back, and watches as Joel and Donnie enter the front doors of the restaurant with the kind of confidence that movie stars might possess. He leans in next to Dan, who’s following behind. “Appreciate this, Daniel,” he says. “These guys won’t be around forever.”

* * *

Minutes later, the quartet has secured a pool table in the upstairs lounge. The room is massive, with a restaurant at one end, a pool hall at the other, and a bar in-between. The pool section has twelve pool tables set up in four rows of three. Joel, Donnie, Jack, and Dan are situated at the far right of the hall, at the middle table. The bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that Joel has ordered for the group sits on the large windowsill adjacent to the pool table.

As Joel and Dan set up the pool balls, and chalk their cues, Donnie speaks to Jack. “I’m not feeling too hot right now,” he says.

“Could it be the four drugs that your on now?”

Donnie looks at Jack blankly. “Five drugs.”

Joel sets up the break, but the two cute girls at the neighboring table snare his attention. He takes the shot, and sinks a solid and a stripped ball. “Game’s still open,” he announces, while eyeing down the girls.

“You know Bill Stevens, right Danny Boy?” asks Joel.

“Of course. The big guy that you work for.”

“Let me tell you a little story about ol’ Bill.” Joel continues to speak as he sets up his next shot. “I was over at his house earlier this week, and he was chatting with this person online…” He sinks the seven ball. “Some kinda… I dunno… video conversation. What’s that called?”

Dan thinks. “Umm… like a webcam?”

“Yeah, maybe. But he was talking to the person and having them do things on camera. So he shows me, and he’s like ‘Watch this, Riggins, I’ve got this girl fingering her asshole.’ And so he types, ‘Do it again.’” Joel misses his next shot. “And I swear, Daniel, no lie. The person turns around and starts jerkin’ off right on camera. It was a guy!”

Dan starts laughing in disbelief.

“So, I ran out into the street, bawling. I was laughing so hard it hurt. And Bill comes running out, and he’s like ‘Guy, it was a strap-on.’ And I go, ‘Yeah, okay Bill. The only strap-on without straps.’ And so he says to me, ‘Guy, if you tell anyone about this…’” Joel laughs.

“Jeeze,” says Dan. “Is it me, or is Bill the first accidentally gay man?”

“Must be, Danny Boy. Must be.”

“Riggins, your shot,” says Donnie.

The game continues, but Joel keeps his eyes on the girls the next table over. He nudges Dan. “She’s a real cutie, huh?”

Dan looks. “Very doable, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes narrow and disappear into the shadow of his brow. “I’ve been given her the ol’ googlies all night.”

“The googlies?”

“Y’know, the ol’ googly eyes? The hairy eyeball?”

“I dunno, Joel. You just look like you’re glaring at her.”

“Take this.” He hands his pool cue to Dan, and walks over to the girl.

“What a character,” Dan says to himself.

“Daniel,” says Donnie. “Get in here. Take a shot.” Donnie returns his attention to Jack. “So as I was saying, Lyons, I started rubbing her back. Not through the shirt, but skin on skin. That’s how you let them know you’re interested in them.”

“Or just rubbing your penis against their thigh, right Donnie?” asks Jack.

“Well, yeah. That works too. But hey, I only did that once.”

“But how are you so successful with women, anyway?” asks Dan. “I mean, every time I see you, you have a new story to tell, and most of the time, you have proof.”

“You know what it is, guy? When I first approach a woman, I just assume in my mind that she wants to sleep with me. I just take that as a given. Once I accept that, the conversation that I have with her is just getting her to accept that fact as well… to stop skirting the issue and get down to her needs. That’s where I get my confidence. I’m not being cocky, I’m just mentally prepared.”

“Do you think you’re anything like Riggins?”

“Well, we both aren’t into that whole ‘girlfriend’ BS like your cousin here,” he says, nodding at Jack. “…But I definitely have higher standards. You have to understand, Joel goes after the women that have fallen behind the herd. The ones that are too fat and too slow to defend themselves. Unlike him, I don’t settle. And I don’t sell myself short.”

The pool game grinds to a halt, as Donnie metes out his life lessons. “Everywhere I go in our hometown, my reputation precedes me. That I’m a womanizer. A player. A… user of women. The truth is… I don’t hate women, and I don’t use them. I give them what they desire… what they crave. I’m a fan of women.”

“A feminist?”

“…Maybe the last feminist.” Donnie chuckles. “But seriously, women are things of beauty. I sleep with them, and appreciate that beauty. And then I set them free.”

“That’s beautiful,” says Dan, with a sense of awe.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m serious.”

Meanwhile, Joel is still chatting up the cute girl nearby. Unfortunately, his playful demeanor has gotten sloppy, and his charisma begins to subside.

“But… I have a boyfriend…” she says.

“Oh wait, isn’t he that Indian guy… what’s his name? Fuckeem?”

The conversation ends on a sour note, and Joel removes himself from the situation. The booze has made his game careless, and his enthusiasm has gotten the better of him.

“Girls who have boyfriends are much easier to seduce,” continues Donnie. “Hell, I prefer them that way. Because then they have a dissatisfaction that I can exploit. You see, when you hit on a girl who has a boyfriend, a husband, whatever… you’re only competing with that one guy. If the girl is single… then you’re competing against everyone.” And with those lasting words of wisdom, the boys resume their game.

* * *

Four bottles of wine later, Joel is in a lively mood, licking his purple lips and waving his pool cue around wildly. “I’m gonna fuck ya, Lyons.” he shouts. “Where am I gonna fuck ya? RIGHT IN THE CULO!”

“Yes, Riggins,” says Jack, calmly. “I know that if you’re going to fuck me, it’s going to be in the culo.”

Donnie chimes in with a partial quote from the movie Heat “‘Cause she got a—” Everyone braces themselves for the end of the sentence, where Al Pacino says “GREAT ASS,” but it never comes. Donnie laughs like a man who has just traumatized a small dog.

Joel leans on the pool table, attempting to sink the eight ball, but he scratches. At this point, the pool game is no longer a challenge of skill between friends, but a measure of their loss of motor skills. Joel picks up the ten ball, and hums it Dan. Dan dodges it, and laughs at Joel. Suddenly, Joel launches the thirteen ball, and it shatters the wine glass in Dan’s hand. His jeans are drenched in the purple liquid. Dan laughs in amazement.

Jack looks nervously at the bar, where a gaggle of waitresses are watching them. “Time to leave,” he says.

In a flash, the boys maneuver their way through the crowded bar and out the front door. By the time they arrive at the car, Joel is missing. Jack looks around frantically. “What happened to Joel?”

“I thought he was behind you,” says Dan.

* * *

Joel hums to himself as he urinates. He looks to his left, at a coat on a hanger. “How’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

Suddenly, the door swings open, and light pours into the room. It’s Jack, silhouetted in the doorframe.

“Lyons!” says Joel. “What’re you doing in the women’s room?”

“This isn’t the women’s room, Joel. It’s the coat room.”

Seconds later, Jack and Joel are walking toward the front door. As they rush past the head waitress, Joel mutters, “Too much of the red winky.”

The waitress stops Jack. “Is your friend okay?”

“Nah, he’s fine. He just gets a little playful when he’s drunk. He’ll drive real careful, though. Trust me.”

“He’s driving? Are you sure he’s okay to do that?”

“Don’t worry; he’s the best we got.”

* * *

Joel gets into the car, with Jack and Dan in the back, and Donnie in the passenger seat. He pulls out his keys and starts the engine.

Donnie looks at Joel. “So… party at Baker’s house?”

Joel cracks a crooked smile as he shifts the car into drive. “Yeah buddy.”

NEXT: THIS IS IT! PARTY AT BAKER’S HOUSE

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 14: Lookout Rock

2007-10-14T20:54:00.001-04:00

After an afternoon of rest and recuperation, Joel, Donnie, Jack, and his cousin Dan have all gathered at Lookout Rock to watch the sunset. Lookout Rock, located in Milford’s neighboring town of Upton, overlooks the dense wilderness of Eastern Massachusetts. The view is incredible, and is the perfect backdrop for this small band of brothers to tie one on in anticipation of a night on the town.

Joel, Donnie, and Dan are all wearing black T-shirts and jeans, while Jack is wearing a brown polo shirt with brown kakis and matching shoes. I only mention it because it might have something to do with the plot later. But nevermind that. Joel and Donnie are arguing:

“Are you kidding me, guy?” asks Joel. “Luke’s lightsaber is definitely blue. It’s his father’s lightsaber, and in the prequels, it was definitely blue.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Riggins. It’s green. In the original, un-revised movie, it’s green. Always has been. I don’t give a fuck what those new releases show.”

“It’s like talking to a wall.” Joel looks at Jack for sympathy. “This kid.”

“So what’d you guys do last night after I left?” asks Jack.

“Oh, you shoulda seen it, Lyons. Me and Donnie had those two girls up in my room doing lines off of each other.”

Donnie produces his cell phone. “Check it out.” He holds the screen up so Jack and Dan can see. “I got the video, and Joel got the stills.” The video shows a line of coke sprinkled on Jamie’s cleavage, as Caitlin leans in to snort it up.

“Oh my goodness,” says Jack.

“Yeah, we had sex with them right after that. Didn’t get it on tape, though. But here…” Donnie presses a few buttons on the phone. “Here’s Jamie doing lines off of Caitlin’s ass.”

Jack watches in awe, feeling a sharp twinge of envy. “Donnie, you live like this? You must have a great life.”

“My life’s not that good,” says Donnie, with a humor that hints at some unspoken sadness. He takes another swig of his pint of Captain Morgan’s.

“It was good, Lyons,” says Joel. “A little of the ol’ skinny bop.” He begins swiveling his hips. “It was definitely refreshing, ‘cause I’ve had way too much of the un-skinny bop lately.”

As Joel and Jack continue their conversation, Donnie turns his attention to Dan, the youngest and newest member of the group. “So when are you gonna grow a pair and start doing hard drugs like the rest of us?”

“I keep telling you, Donnie. I can’t be doing that stuff right now.”

“Mr. Air Force. You can’t hide behind that forever, guy. Someday, I’m gonna force it down your throat.” Donnie begins laughing, as he slaps Dan on the back. “I’m like the older brother you never had… and never wanted.”

Dan winces as Donnie pulls back his hand for another slap on the back. “You don’t have to be scared of me, Daniel. I fight for the good guys now. My life is like Darth Vader in reverse. I started out as a bad person, and I became a good one. Speaking of which…” he continues. “I got a great idea for a story you should hear.”

Meanwhile, Joel is still weighing the pros and cons of having sex with fat chicks. “…and this girl… she had real nice hambaleros. But they are a homely lookin’ bunch. And I have banged my fair share of those.”

“Is that a fact?” asks Jack.

“Well, I’m not saying I’m gay exactly… but if I have banged a man recently, I wouldn’t know it.” He takes a sip of his beer. “In fact, now that I think about it, that girl I banged last week did look a lot like Andy Fleischmann… Y’know, if he tucked his penis between his legs.”

Donnie continues to explain his story idea to Dan: “…So the two discarded testicles form a double helix, and create a super-being that overthrows the father.”

Dan nods. “Yeah, I see where you’re going with it… it’s just… it doesn’t make a whole lotta sense.”

“Sure it does, guy. It would be like an epic trilogy. Like Lord of the Rings."

“Maybe.”

“Well, if you don’t use that idea, at least write a story about our little gang here. I’m sure Joel’s told you enough stories to fill a book.” Donnie turns his attention to the setting sun. “Think about it: Someday, we’ll all own this town. And you could be the one who tells our story to world.”

The separate conversations merge back into one as Jack asks, “So what are the plans for tonight?”

“Well, we got that party at Baker’s house to go to later,” says Joel. “Between Donnie and me, we’ve called up every dirtbag and hooker in Eastern Massachusetts.”

“What about all your friends?” asks Dan.

“Yeah, that’s who I was referring to.” Joel looks at Jack. “So, we’ll head over there later tonight.”

“…But not before ten,” says Donnie. “…Of midnight.”

Jack laughs. “Okay.”

“But in the meantime…” Joel continues, “We’re gonna go down to the pool hall in Franklin. Contra. Shoot a little stick.” Joel moves his hands as if he’s handling a pool cue, though it looks vaguely similar to hand-job. Joel nods at Jack. “Right, Jack? Shoot some stick? Get a little ball in hand… and dick on wrist.”

“What?” laughs Dan.

“Well sure,” says Joel. “If you have ‘ball in hand,’ as they say in pool, where else is your dick gonna be?” He nods at Dan. “You’re coming, Danny Boy.”

“So about this party…” asks Dan. “Who’s gonna be there?”

“Everybody in Milford,” says Donnie. “Including your girlfriend.”

Dan realizes that Donnie is referring to a girl by the name of Joann, whom Dan had crossed paths with several months earlier at one of Joel’s get togethers. Dan had given up pursuing her a while ago, but Donnie always liked to playfully maintain that the two were a couple.

“You remember her, don’t you?” Donnie continues. “That pale Irish chick. You know what I’m talking about.”

Dan laughs. “Sure, Donnie.” He redirects his next words at Joel and Jack. “I never know what to say to people at these giant townie parties, though. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to say beyond ‘Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while!’?”

“Nah, it’s okay Daniel,” says Jack. “Just find someone like Sean Finnerty and make fun of his T-shirt. It works every time.”

“Oh hey, speaking of T-shirts,” says Donnie to Joel. “I gave Caitlin and Jamie those shirts we had made up.”

“What T-shirts?” asks Dan.

“It’s good, Danny Boy,” says Joel. “Donnie had T-shirts made that say: ‘I hung out with J.R. and D.S…. and I liked it.’”

“Jeeze,” says Dan. “You guys are turning into a franchise, huh?”

“That’s right,” says Donnie, brimming with pride. The conversation hits a lull, as the boys admire the changing colors of the sky. Donnie is reminded of the passionate words of Al Pacino, as spoken in The Devil’s Advocate:

“And who's got his eye on the planet, as the air thickens, the water sours, and even the bees' honey takes on the metallic taste of radioactivity?”

“Here it comes,” says Joel.

“…But I’m no puppeteer, Kevin.” Donnie continues, in a gravely, Al Pacino voice. “I don’t make things happen… Who am I? Oh! I have so many names… Satan? Call me dad.” Donnie’s rant continues, echoing the most bombastic lines from the film: “You got to hold on to that anger, you got to hold on to that FURY! That's the last thing to go, that's the final hiding place; it's the final fig leaf…

“Guilt… is like a bag of fuckin’ bricks. All you gotta do is set it down… Who are you carrying all those bricks for anyway? God? Is that it? God? Well I tell ya… Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts! He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do? I swear, for His own amusement… His own private, cosmic GAG REEL, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch… Touch, but don't taste! Taste, don't swallow. ...And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is He doing? He's LAUGHIN' HIS SICK, FUCKIN' ASS OFF. He's a tight-ass! He's a SADIST! He's an absentee landlord. Worship that? NEVER!…”

A young couple approaches the peak of Lookout Rock, keeping their distance as Donnie continues his impassioned monologue: “I'M A FAN OF MAN! I'm a humanist. Maybe the LAST humanist… Who in their right mind, Kevin, could possibly deny the twentieth century was entirely mine?! ALL OF IT, KEVIN!… All of it. ...WE’RE COMING OUT! GUNS BLAZING!… It's time to step up and take what's yours.”

Donnie finishes, looking aggressively at the sky. Joel, Jack, and Dan are all laughing hysterically, and the young couple that came in halfway through is awed and a little frightened.

Donnie takes note of the couple, and addresses them directly. “How did you like my Al Pacino impersonation?”

“Al Pacino? We just thought you were ranting.” The couple moves on, as Donnie redirects his attention to the group.

“Could you imagine banging a chick with Al Pacino watching?” asks Donnie.

“I couldn’t imagine it being much different than all the times you’ve watched me bang a chick,” says Joel.

“Now now, I never actually watched you bang a chick. I’ve been in the same room, but never watching.”

“This kid.” Joel turns to Jack. “So last night, we were banging Caitlin and Jamie, in the same room. As the night wore on, and we were all coked out of our minds… I couldn’t get a hard-on if my life depended on it.”

“Here we go,” says Donnie.

“…So I used my fingers on Caitlin, y’know, diddlin’ her up. And as she was breathin’ heavy, I heard this kid say, ‘If you’re gonna fuck her, at least make her scream.’”

Jack shakes his head as he laughs. “Oh, man.”

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the sky turns a deep shade of blue. Joel and Donnie continue their discussion. “Blue, Riggins? Luke’s lightsaber is blue? You really need to get your eyes checked.”

Jack takes a few steps back, getting a full view of the breathtaking sky. Joel and Donnie form perfect silhouettes from Jack’s perspective. Jack pulls out his cell phone, and holds it up as the boys continue to argue amongst themselves. “This oughtta make one hell of a picture,” he says to himself. (And it did. That's it at the top of the page.)

TO BE CONTINUED? FUCK YEAH!

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 13: Holy Cocaine Remorse, Batman

2007-10-11T15:02:00.000-04:00

Ten o’clock on a Saturday morning is the domain of the innocent. Married men accompany their wives to Home Depot and Wal-Mart. Children go to soccer practice. Old couples take a stroll in the morning air. But on this Saturday morning, a new kind of person has thrust himself into contention. It’s Joel Riggins. And he’s been up all night drinking booze, doing coke, and having clumsy sex.

Joel careens through the side streets of Milford, pushing the limits of his rented Honda Accord. “Crazy Bitch,” by Buckcherry blasts on his stereo speakers. “Jimmy!” he shouts out his window, to an elderly couple walking by. His mind is in a frenzy, and the last ounce of energy left in his exhausted body is exploding out of him like volatile diarrhea. Who would enjoy my antics right now? he thinks. Who would appreciate my cheery attitude, and my rapid-fire punch lines?

* * *

Dan sits in the basement of his house, hunched over his drawing board. He’s putting the finishing touches on a picture of a drug-addled Brian Rix that was requested a few days prior. His cell phone rings, and he flips it open.

“What’s up, guy?”

“Danny Boy! Get your shit together. I’m picking you up.”

“When?”

“Fifteen minutes, buddy. Getcha head outta ya culo.”

A half hour later, Joel’s car is idling in Dan’s driveway. Dan sits himself down in the passenger seat as Joel greets him. “Top o’ the morning to ya. How’s the hammer hangin’?”

“Slow and steady.”

“Cheah, tell me about it. Mine’s so slow and steady that I’m usually taking it instead of giving it.” Dan laughs. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“So where are we headed?”

“I gotta drop off a baby shower gift with my sister-in-law. It’s in Upton, the next town over.” And with that bit of exposition, the boys take off.

“Look at this clown,” says Joel, pointing at a shirtless man mowing his front lawn. “…Mowing his lawn on a Saturday morning like a jerk. I specifically don’t get into that shit. Not this cowboy.” He leans out the window and waves. “JIMMAYY!” he shouts. The man waves back.
“Y’see, Danny Boy. That’s something I just learned this morning. You can shout any name, and people will wave back and think you’re talking to them.”

“So what’d you guys do last night?”

“Don’t worry about me, Danny Boy. I was just up all night doing coke. We had a couple of young sweethearts over, though, with some real nice hammers. Good stuff, too. I got to put the ol’ hammer between the hammers.”

“Y’see, I knew you’d make things confusing by calling every body part a ‘hammer’.”

“Ah, well, what can you do?” The car slows into a stop sign, as a young female jogger comes by. “Ooo, look at this.” Joel leans out the window. “She’s a real cutie, huh? A nice young buck. What a sweetheart.”

The girl turns. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

“Yeah, unless you do hard drugs and drink like it’s your job, you have no idea who I am, sweetheart.” He speeds off.

Minutes later, the boys arrive at Joel’s sister-in-law’s house. Joel drops off the gift, along with a few playful one-liners and punch lines.

“So what are you thinking?” he asks as he gets back into the car. “A little breakfast? A little bacon and eggs?”

“How about an omelet?” says Dan.

“I like where your head’s at.”

* * *

Soon, Joel and Dan are meandering down the aisles of Shaw’s supermarket, snatching up one ingredient after another. Dan strikes off on a quest to find apple cider, as Joel runs into a familiar face.

“Hey! Mrs. Waxman! How ya doin’?”

“Hello, Joel. You’re looking sharp,” says the forty-five year old mother of three. “I haven’t seen you since you were this tall.” She holds her hand at around five feet from the ground. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Ah, ya know, this and that. I’m a good kid these days.”

“Good to hear.”

“It’s funny running into you, though. I saw your daughter Rebecca just yesterday.” He nods his head. “She’s looking REAL fine.”

Mrs. Waxman stares at him, unsure of what to say. “Well, nice seeing you Joel.” She walks off.

“See you around, Mrs. W!”

* * *

Joel and Dan are at the checkout counter, having picked out the cutest female clerk ahead of time. Joel rummages through his pockets looking for cash. “Look at this, Danny Boy. All I have is a pocket full of one-dollar bills, and they’re either rolled up or folded length-wise. You see what happens when you spend your nights blowing lines or going to strip clubs?”

“Well, I havta say… I can only identify with you on that second part.”

“And what the hell happened to my Shaw’s card?”

* * *

Shortly, the duo is back at Joel’s house on East Street, cracking open eggs into a frying pan. Joel looks at Dan, and asks, “Do you know how to make an omelet?”

“No, I thought you did. I’m strictly a scrambled or fried eggs kinda chef.”

Suddenly, a small woman in her thirties comes through the side door of the house, grocery bags in hand. “Hello hello!” she says.

“Oh, hey Aunt Beth,” says Joel. “I thought you were on your way to the baby shower this morning.”

Aunt Beth enters the kitchen. She’s a small woman with a big attitude. “Oh, I’ll get there soon enough. I just thought I’d stop in and drop off some groceries for your new house. You don’t eat nearly enough, Joel.”

Joel laughs. “Funny thing is, me and Danny Boy here just picked up some groceries from Shaw’s.”

“Oh, well, you can never have enough food.” She eyes the orange juice on the counter. “I brought some champagne as well,” she says while pulling out the bottle. “Whaddaya say? You want me to fix you a Mimosa?”

“Why not?”

“And you, Danny?”

“Might as well.”

Beth pours the drinks, and the minutes that follow are filled with familial humor between Joel and his aunt. Dan tries to keep pace, by laughing when they laugh. And as quickly as she arrived, Aunt Beth is gone.

“Yeah, she’s a character all right,” says Joel to Dan. “Did you know she’s my godmother?”

“No kiddin’.”

“Typical, though, for people in my family to be drinking this early in the day. But that’s how I know we’re all related. That and our sense of humor. Good thing, too.” Joel digs in his pocket and takes out his cell phone. “I sent out a few late-night text messages last night. I think I sent this one to Aunt Beth, along with half of the women in Milford.” Joel passes his phone to Dan. The screen reads: “I want to touch you uncomfortably.”

Rix shuffles into the kitchen, dragging his feet and rubbing his eyes. “Holy cocaine remorse, Batman,” he says.

“Rix? You’re still here?”

“Yeah guy. I slept on the couch.”

“You want a Mimosa?” Joel points at his Aunt Beth’s abandoned glass.

“A Mimosa?” he says. “Did you order a Vegas whore?”

Joel laughs. “Nah, it was just my Aunt Beth.”

“And you’re sure she’s not a Vegas whore?”

“This kid,” says Joel.

Rix takes a seat at the kitchen counter. “Guy, I just realized that I did six grams of coke last night.”

“And you’re still alive? I gotta say, Rix. You must be more coke than man.”

“Is something burning?”

“Oh shit! The eggs!” Joel rushes back to the pan, and tries to salvage the blackened eggs. It’s no use. “Hey Rix, do you know how to make an omelet?”

“Step aside, daisy.”

* * *

Jack Lyons sits on the bench in front of his house, smoking a butt and recovering from the night before. The cocaine remorse has hit him hard, and his mind races with options on how to repair his seemingly fractured lifestyle. But these thoughts will have to wait. Because his cell phone is ringing. And it’s Joel Riggins.

Jack opens the phone without saying a word. “Hey Lyons, me and Danny Boy are gonna come over for a bit. See you in five.” Jack snaps the phone shut and takes another drag.

The phone rings again. This time, it’s Donnie: “Hey Lyons, is it alright if I come over to your house to shower up?”

Every fiber of Jack’s being screams the word “no.” Donnie is a dangerous character, and welcoming him into your home is a dangerous game. “…Okay…” he says, after a long pause.

Suddenly, Jack watches as Donnie’s black Toyota Camry comes swerving onto Jack’s street. Donnie immediately cuts off a minivan, which has to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting him. Donnie cuts the wheel, and skids into Jack’s driveway, slamming to a halt less than an inch away from Jack’s pickup truck. Jack’s cigarette tumbles out of his mouth as he witnesses the event in shock.

Donnie stumbles out of his car. His eyes are totally red as he saunters up to Jack. He slaps Jack on the back hard enough to throw off his balance. “Good to see you, Lyons.”

“I wish I could say it was mutual.” Jack points to the minivan that passes. “You realize you coulda killed that family?”

Donnie waves his hand dismissively. “You could get killed walking your doggie.” (Editor’s note: A line from Heat by Al Pacino.) He laughs at his own joke. “Alright,” he continues. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” Donnie stumbles up the front steps, and disappears into Jack’s home.
Jack shakes his head in a frustration bordering on indifference.

* * *

An hour passes, and Jack, Joel, and Dan are relaxing in Jack’s bedroom. The guys are drinking light beer and looking through the stack of vacation photos that Jack recently had developed.
“Yeah, it was a nice cruise. Very cheap, but very high quality.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, Lyons… We should all go on a cruise someday. Y’know, just us good ol’ boys diddlin’ up a couple of young sweethearts…”

All of a sudden, Donnie comes through the door with a towel around his waste. His skin is glowing red from his long, hot shower. He snatches up a bottle of rum from Jack’s private stash, takes a long swig, then sets it down on the desk where Jack’s photos are all laid out. The bottle spills, and the photos are ruined. Jack gives Donnie a look as cold as the icy grip of death.

Donnie catches his glance, and says, “You must hate me right now.”

NEXT: THE FINAL NIGHT BEGINS AT LOOKOUT ROCK

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 12: Shit Show

2007-10-10T14:58:00.001-04:00

Rizzo, Larry, and Hines make their excuses and fade into the night, returning to the soul-crushing chore that is married life. Fontana follows suit, as his work for the government precludes his involvement in recreational drugs.

Joel, Donnie, Jack, and the newly arrived Rix make their way to the kitchen. “You up for a gravity?” asks Joel to no one in particular.

Before anyone can answer, Rix responds: “Grow up and do some coke, Riggins. Jesus Christ.”

The boys gather in the kitchen as Rix scans the room with his perpetually wide eyes. “Where are we doing this?” he asks.

“I might have a mirror or a something around here somewhere.”

“Riggins, I’m not doing coke off of a mirror. I don’t want to see my ugly face while I’m doing lines.”

“The counter it is, then.”

And so it begins. The guys take turns snorting lines of coke through rolled-up one-dollar bills. For one reason or another, each of these young men has chosen this path for themselves. But do not judge them. Behind every indulgence, behind every high, there is a long road leading backward in time. And, as some would say, there is no variation, and no other outcome possible than the current one. We all have our escapes. Cocaine is theirs.

“Did you hear that?” says Joel. “I thought I heard someone talking about us.”

“That was the doorbell, you stooge,” says Donnie. “It must be the girls.”

* * *

Forty minutes later, the party has migrated into Joel’s basement, where an impromptu beer pong table has been set up between two bar stools. Joel’s laptop is plugged into the stereo, and is blasting ‘90’s hip-hop that only someone born in the early ‘80’s would recognize. Jack busies himself at the computer, attempting to download just the right mix of songs for the increasingly incoherent audience.

Joel and Donnie have paired themselves off with Caitlin and Jamie, respectively, for a round of beer pong. Caitlin and Jamie are attractive girls, but their loose moral standing has brought them into this environment. They’re good girls at heart, but they have a soft spot for bad boys, and Joel and Donnie are most certainly that… Donnie in particular. Jamie is Donnie’s regular. I won’t say girlfriend, because that’s not Donnie’s style. They are peers who occasionally have sex with each other. And Caitlin? She’s Jamie’s friend and childhood acquaintance of Joel. Suffice it to say, the chances of sex look good.

Joel misses a shot, as the ping-pong ball bounces off the rim of a cup. “SHIT!” he yells, while slapping the low ceiling.

“You’re eyesight’s not what it used to be, eh Riggins? You fucking fag.”

“Oop. There’s that Savia Lung.” Joel looks at Caitlin. “Everybody in Donnie’s family has a third lung that they use just for insults. They just breathe and an insult comes out.”

Rix motions toward Caitlin, as he leans in next to Jack’s ear. “That girl with Riggins looks a lot like Stacy Kepler from high school.”

“She was a looker, huh?”

“I would’ve paid fifty bucks just to smell her fart.” Jack laughs as Rix continues his thought. “I would throw my own mother down a flight of stairs for her.”

Jack continues plugging away at the computer, and accidentally pulls up Donnie’s search history. The keywords ‘school girl,’ ‘school bus,’ ‘rape,’ and ‘underage’ show up in bold letters.

“Jeeze, Donnie. What were you doing on this computer?”

Donnie looks over at him. “The usual.”

“What’s the usual?” asks Jamie.

“Porn,” he says, staring at her blankly.

Suddenly, the song “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira comes through the stereo speakers. As Joel cocks his hand back to take a shot at the beer pong table, he begins to swivel his hips back and forth. He takes on the appearance of a garbage man holding onto to the back of his truck as he dances. He nods his chin at Jack. “Oh, these hips lie.” He chucks his ball across the table, and sinks the shot. “BAM!” he shouts. Joel looks at Jamie. “Ooo, I’m so wet.”

“I’m glad one of us is,” she says back.

Rix finishes laying out a fresh row of coke lines. He nods at Jack. “Your up, daisy.”

* * *

Minutes later, Donnie is in the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of Captain Morgan rum. Jamie is standing next to him, watching as he fills nine-tenths of the glass with rum and adds Pepsi to the other one-tenth.

“Isn’t that a little much?” Jamie asks.

“Actually, it’s a lot, much.” The duo retreats to the front stoop to catch up with Joel and Caitlin, leaving Rix and Jack in the kitchen.

Jack’s heart races, as the cocaine takes hold of his central nervous system. He looks at Rix with wide eyes. “Hey Rix, man… we should hang out more.”

Rix calmly looks at Jack, “Sure, guy. Talk to me again if you survive the night.” Rix pats him on the back. “C’mon, let’s get you outside. Some fresh air will do you good.”

On the front stoop, Joel is already engaged in a lively discussion with Caitlin. Donnie and Jamie sit on the bench adjacent to the front steps, while Joel and Caitlin sit on the steps themselves. Rix and Jack stand on the lawn.

“I’m actually reading the Bible right now,” says Joel. “Just started with Genesis earlier this week. I’m just gonna read it straight through, like a novel or something.”

“You should read some Henry David Thoreau,” responds Caitlin.

“Thoreau?” Joel says. “I’d rather finger blast myself up at Walden Pond.”

Jack immediately burst into laughter.

The moment passes, and Rix nods at Caitlin. “Caitlin, you doin’ yackas tonight, or what?”

Caitlin shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll do a few lines. Let me just finish my cigarette here.”

Donnie, who’s rubbing her back, speaks up. “You should do a line off of Jamie’s tits.”

Caitlin playfully slaps Donnie. “No, you perv. I’m not a lesbo.”

“C’mon. I’m not asking you to have sex with her.”

“Donnie, there’s no way I’m going to blow lines off of another girl’s boobs.”

* * *

A half hour later, Caitlin in blowing lines off of Jamie’s boobs in Joel’s upstairs bedroom. Donnie films the act with his cell phone camera. Joel is rummaging through his room, looking for his digital camera. “Riggins!” says Donnie. “Get in there! Get some shots of this!”

Joel pulls out his camera. “Yeah-bah!” he exclaims. He begins snapping shots like art house photog. “Ooo, look at those hammers. What a sweetheart. That makes me so wet.”

Donnie interjects. “Now Caitlin, get on your hands and knees, and take off your pants. Jamie’s gonna do some lines off your ass.” Donnie winks at Joel. “’Cause she gotta… GREAT ASS!” (Editor’s note: Al Pacino reference.)

* * *

Hours later, as night approaches dawn, Joel wanders down to the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. Rix is there, waiting. “Riggins,” he says. “Let’s do a yacka.”

“Jeeze, Rix. You’re still here?”

“Yeah, guy. Lyons left a little while ago.” He sprinkles some cocaine on the kitchen counter. “You and Donnie been up there for a while. How’s it goin’?”

“We had the girls doing coke off of each other.”

“You take pictures?”

“Of course. Donnie took the video, and I got the stills.”

“There ya go, buddy.”

“We tried having sex with them, but I swear to god, I have no blood left in my dick anymore. Too much coke.”

“Well how about this? Do a yacka, smoke a butt, then you can go lie down.”

Joel leans in for a sniff, but the coke falls out of his nose. He tries again, and pinches his nostril shut to keep it in.

“Alright, twinkle toes, go take a rest.”

Twenty minutes later, Joel is sitting on the front stoop, watching the sunrise. Rix pokes his head out the front door. “Hey Riggins. Do another yacka, guy. One more.”

“Christ.”

NEXT: HOLY COCAINE REMORSE, BATMAN
PLUS: DAN JOINS THE CREW FOR THEIR FINAL DAY

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 11: Poker Night

2007-10-02T14:22:00.000-04:00

Joel’s new home is a two-story house on East Street with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a furnished basement. The house serves as the ideal setup for Friday’s poker night: No mothers, no wives, no girlfriends… in short, no female nagging of any kind. Just a place for a bunch of good old boys in their mid twenties to pretend that college never ended. The poker game itself would take place on the kitchen table, and the chumps that lost a hand could retire to the kitchen for a gravity hit, or the front stoop for a cigarette.

As the players slowly arrive, Joel sits on the edge of his recliner chair, controller in hand, playing Madden NFL. His opponent, Rizzo, sits on the other side of the TV room. Jack Lyons and Fontana sit on the couch in between, watching the artificial football game, and occasionally flipping through the stack of FHM magazines on the coffee table.

“SHIT!” screams Joel, at the top of his lungs. Rizzo laughs, and the game continues. “So as I was saying, Lyons, I woke up this morning naked next to a sock. I had no memory of the night before, but once I saw that sock… I new I had to have smashed one out before passing out.”

Jack is laughing at the story, as he interjects: “’Smashed one out’?”

“Yeah, y’know, the ol’ knuckle blaster. A little ‘hammer down now’.” Joel shakes his fist in a masturbatory motion. “Took the ol’ smash nap.”

Jack and Fontana laugh. Fontana, the rotund Italian townie, and childhood friend of Jack, speaks up. “So what happened with your Jeep today? Lyons was telling me you two were driving around without brakes.”

“Yeah, you like that one? We crashed into a tree in his girlfriend’s backyard. It’s okay, though. I got a rental this afternoon.”

“Hey, Riggins!” shouts Larry from the kitchen. “Where the hell is Donnie? You said he was bringing the felt table and chips, right?”

“Yeah guy. I don’t know. He shoulda been here by now.” He looks at Jack. “I’m gonna order some pizzas. You guys want some pizzas?”

Suddenly, Donnie comes crashing through the door. “’Cause she gotta… GREAT ASS!!!” he screams. It’s a line from Heat by Al Pacino, but few outside of his circle of friends would get the reference. Donnie arrives with a metallic briefcase filled with poker supplies, and a felt tabletop for the occasion. He sets up shop as the players congregate in the kitchen.

You know Joel, Jack, and Donnie. But the other players are:

Rizzo, a man with a wife he loves and two jobs he hates.

Fontana, the Italian townie-turned Philadelphia park ranger.

Larry, the seven-foot tall married man with no personality.

And Hines, a fat man with no sense of humor.

As the boys gather around the table, Donnie catches up with each of them: “Hey Fontana, how’s government life treatin’ ya, you fucking loser? And Hines, what’s this I hear about your sister bangin’ every guy in town? Riggins, you still scraping the bottom of the barrel with your sex life? Hey Lyons, your girlfriend is a down-syndrome whore that even I wouldn’t want to fuck more than once. Larry, you freak. Nice to see that your posture brings you down to our level.” He looks at Rizzo. “Rizzo! You’re married!”

There is a long pause.

“…And that’s the punch line,” says Joel.

“Alright Donnie, we know you’re an asshole. You don’t have to prove it,” says Jack.

Donnie laughs. “You fucking homos.”

“Can we play some poker?”

And so it begins. It’s a game of Texas hold ‘em, with a rotating dealer. The boys throw in their cash upfront, and convert them into chips for the duration of the game. Beers are downed, stories are swapped, and the players bust each other’s balls at every opportunity.

“See you an’ raise, Larry. You guys watch the game Monday night?”

“It sucked.”

“Guess someone had his money on Boston again…”

“Hey Riggins, what’s this I hear about you banging a homeless girl?”

Joel shakes his head, ashamed. “Yeah, it happens.”

“How’d she look?”

“She was thirty-five, and not a day under. I fold.”

“Raise,” says Rizzo. He tosses some poker chips to the center of the table, and two of them go rolling toward Joel.

“Oop, wagon wheels. I hanker for a hunka.”

“Okay, I call.”

“All in,” says Donnie.

The game continues, the blinds raise. It isn’t long before Jack and Fontana are chilling out in the TV room, watching episodes of The Soup, and talking about the directions their lives have taken.

“Hey Lyons! You see this yet?” Donnie shouts from the kitchen. Jack enters, and sees Larry, Rizzo, and Hines gathered around Donnie’s cell phone. The homemade sex video plays on the screen.

“It’s like a porno!”

“You see, Lyons, when I’m bangin’ a chick, I’m usually thinking: ‘how can I share this experience with my friends?’”

Jack looks at Donnie, “How generous of you, Donnie. You’re such a thoughtful guy.”

“I keep telling you, Lyons. I fight for the good guys now. Speakin’ of which…” He looks over at Joel, who’s grabbing some beers from the fridge. “Hey Riggins, Jamie’s bringing her friend over here in an hour or two. I gave her this address.”

Joel walks back toward the group. “Ooo. A couple of sweethearts, eh?” He nudges Jack. “Looks like the Diddle Bug is coming out tonight, right Lyons?” Joel begins flicking his fingers around at waist-level, in a tickling/fingering motion. Jack stares blankly at Joel. “You know, Lyons, we’d both get a lot more out of this is you actually reacted to the Diddle Bug.”

“Joel Riggins everybody,” says Donnie.

* * *

Ten minutes, and a new hand, later: “Gimme two.”

“Ha! I knew you were bluffin’!”

“Yeah, well, the Diddle Bug’s interferin’ with my concentration.”

“I gotta see these shirts that Donnie ordered,” says Fontana.

“Yeah guy,” says Joel. “He got them professionally done. Ordered them in bulk, too.”

Donnie enters from his momentary absence, carrying a pink T-shirt in his hand. “Here it is. I keep them in the trunk of my car.” He holds up the T-shirt. In large, black italic letters, the front of the shirt reads:

I "HUNG OUT" WITH J.R. AND D.S....

Donnie turns the shirt over. On the back, it reads:

...AND I LIKED IT.

“I had these made up so we can give these out to the girls we bang.”

The gang is amused and surprised. Fontana is particularly tickled. “It’s like you’re celebrities or something.”

“That’s right, guy. We’re gonna own this town someday.” He looks down at the shirt. “Just imagine two girls at a gas station or something, running into each other, and they both have this shirt on.”

Fontana laughs. “Yeah, that’ll happen,” he says doubtfully.

“It will, guy. It will.”

* * *

The night wears on, and the boys take a break by doing gravity hits at the kitchen sink. Donnie is surfing around online on Joel’s laptop, cell phone in hand.

“I gotta say, I’ve done such disgusting things to my girlfriend,” says Jack. “I’ve done everything.”

Donnie looks at him cynically. “Oh really? Have you punched her in the face while you were banging her?”

“No.”

“Then you haven’t done everything.” He continues surfing, then stops at a Boston escort site. He flips open his phone, and begins dialing.

“So get this, Lyons,” says Joel as he takes a hit. “Baker’s parents are out of town this weekend. Now, I haven’t actually talked with Baker, but I’m calling all sorts of people, and we’re gonna have a huge party over there tomorrow night.”

“And Baker doesn’t know?”

“He will when he gets there.”

Donnie continues his conversation with a hooker: “So listen, there’s seven guys here. Would you have a problem if we blew eight loads on the floor in front of you? Hello?” He hangs up. “That fucking whore.”

“Hey Donnie,” says Jack. “I couldn’t help overhearing. If there’s seven of us, where would that eighth load come from?”

“Don’t overanalyze it, Jack.”

* * *

The poker game tapers off, and the winnings are dolled out. The boys hang out on the front stoop, cranking cigarette butts like Ray Liotta, and laughing at yesterday. Joel emerges from the house. “I set up the beer pong table in the basement. So when those girls arrive, we can get ‘em warmed up with that.” He nods at Jack. “You stickin’ around, Lyons?”

“What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty.”

He scratches his head. “I wish we had something more to do…”

Right on cue, local coke fiend Brian Rix arrives, his pockets filled with fun. “What’s up, kids? You partying tonight or what?” He produces a sandwich bag filled with cocaine. “It’s gonna be a real shit show.”

NEXT: GROW UP AND DO SOME COKE

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 10: Movin’ Out

2007-09-20T23:42:00.001-04:00

It’s early afternoon, as Joel and Jack move boxes and other random household supplies from Joel’s childhood home into his black Jeep Wrangler. The summer sun beats down on Joel, who regrets wearing his trademark black T-shirt. He pauses on the driveway to catch his breath, leaning on his Jeep. A female jogger catches his attention, as she bounces down his street. He waves, catching her attention, and she slows her jog to a halt at the foot of his driveway.

“Joel?” she says cautiously.

“Yeah. You’re… don’t tell me…” He thinks with his hand on his chin. “Rebecca… Waxman?”

Rebecca laughs, “Oh my god, it’s been forever. I haven’t seen you since high school.”

Joel rubs his hands together, as his smile squints his already tiny eyes to oblivion. “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

“Yeah, actually, I’m home from college, and I just got back from my semester abroad.”

Joel looks her up and down, filling his brain with eye candy. “I should take you out sometime. Go see a movie.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t think my boyfriend would approve.”

“He can come too,” responds Joel without missing a beat.

Rebecca laughs. “Maybe some other time.” She jogs off, and waves.

Joel watches her jog away, as her ponytail bounces back and forth, among other things.

“Hey Riggins!” shouts Jack from behind. “Come help me move the mattress out!”

* * *

Joel and Jack on the front stoop of Joel’s new home on East Street, throwing back bottles of Coors Light to celebrate a job well done.

“So what’s the deal with your Jeep, anyway? Why’d you use the handbrake every time we came to a red light?”

“The breaks are shot, guy. The thing’s like ten years old.”

Jack shakes his head, then swigs his beer and looks over his shoulder at the house.

“I gotta say, it’s a nice place, Joel.”

“Yeah, it’s a cool pad. Centrally located, you know, and a liquor store less than a block over.”

“So when does Matt move in?”

“Next week. He’s already moved a few things in already, as you saw.”

“So anyway, get back to your story about Bill.”

“Yeah, like I was saying Lyons, me and Bill were in downtown Providence trawling for hooks last night, and we found this trashy lookin’ chick. Of course, you know Bill, so he starts chattin’ her up, making dirty comments, eventually convinces her to take a ride with us. So we do an eight ball, and it goes from there.

“Then we were like, ‘Where can we drop you?’ and she’s like ‘Oh, just drop me anywhere. I’m actually between homes right now.’”

“Oh my goodness,” responds Jack.

“So here we were in Providence, getting serviced by a homeless girl.”

“So what’d you do?”

“We just kicked her to the curb.”

“How’d that go?”

“I gave her two bucks. Then she said, ‘What the hell can I do with this?’ So I said ‘Go buy yourself a dream, sweetheart, turn it into twenty.’”

Jack laughs in surprise. “Jeeze, Joel.”

“You like that, Lyons? I got a million more.”

* * *

An hour later, Joel and Jack are tooling down the back streets of Milford, listening to “Pepper” by the Butthole Surfers.

“So why do you have to feed her cat?”

“Because I’m the boyfriend, and she’s on vacation with her parents. That’s what boyfriends do. I know that concept is lost on you.”

“Pfff. Relationships,” Joel responds. “Such a scam.”

The Jeep comes to a stop sign, and Joel pulls the handbrake. The Jeep doesn’t stop.

“What did you do?” asks Jack.

“…I think we exhausted the handbrake with all those trips back and forth to my house.” Jack looks at Joel with anger sprinkled with fear. “Relax, Lyons. If we have to stop, I’ll just slow down and nudge the curb.” He cuts the wheel to the right, and the Jeep bumps up on the curb, then nestles to a stop. “See?” Jack shakes his head.

Seconds later, the Jeep comes to the top of a steep hill, and the boys look at the sharp, downhill slope of Tanglewood Road. At the bottom is a two-way stop with an intersecting road: Franklin Street.

Joel looks at Jack. “Looks like we better pray that no one comes down Franklin Street.” Jack grabs the crossbars of the Jeep, as Joel steps on the gas. The Jeep careens down Tanglewood Road, gaining speed.

Jack catches a glimpse at a Chevy pickup on a collision course with the Jeep. “Gun it!” Jack shouts.

Joel presses the gas pedal, and the Jeep sails through the intersection, barely missing the Chevy.

Jack sighs as they continue on a more level road. “Nudge the curb, huh?”

“I don’t have all the answers, Lyons.”

Minutes later, the duo arrives at the house of Jack’s girlfriend. Joel turns the Jeep onto the driveway, not realizing that it slopes downward toward the back porch.

“Oh shit!” Joel cries. He quickly assesses the situation, and accepts that he’s going to have to stop himself by hitting the porch or a nearby oak tree. “Porch or tree? PORCH OR TREE?!”

“TREE! TREE!” Jack yells.

Joel cuts the wheel to the left, and the Jeep hits the tree with a low “thud.”

Jack looks at Joel, and says, “Next time, we’re taking my truck.”

NEXT: POKER NIGHT-TURNED SHIT SHOW

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 9: Smash Nap and Safe Haven

2007-09-20T23:41:00.001-04:00

“OH MY GOD! JOEL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

Joel awakens with a start, lying face down on his bedroom floor. A Durex condom wrapper sticks to his right cheek as he lifts his head. His memory a blur, and his eyes slowly clearing, Joel’s attention is caught by a dirty sock lying a foot away from him. The otherwise white sock has a crusty, almost yellow stain by the toe. What have I done? he asks himself.

The voice that awoke Joel was clearly his mother’s, standing immediately behind him. Joel turns his head to look over his shoulder, but his attention is snared by the glow of his bare ass. He’s completely naked.

Joel snatches up a dirty T-shirt to hold in front of his package as he turns over. “Umm… I can explain…” he starts.

Suddenly, Joel’s father peeks in the room, over his wife’s shoulder. “Do you feel ridiculous?” he asks his son. “’Cause you look it.”

* * *

Minutes later, Joel is sitting on his bed wearing a pair of red boxers and a green T-shirt, rubbing his face in dumbfounded exhaustion. Memories of the previous night flicker through his head. He sees himself tossing one-dollar bills at half-naked women. He sees Bill pull out a bag of coke with the sinister promise of “Gag ‘em and tag ‘em,” a reference to doing coke with hookers before getting sexual favors and sending them on their way. He remembers a woman’s face buried in his lap in the front seat of Bill’s pickup, with Bill looking in through the window like the T-Rex from Jurassic Park.

But the money, Joel thinks. An entire afternoon of buying love from women with progressively loose morals, from flirty waitresses to dirty prostitutes. How much had he spent? Joel imagines Bill laughing as he lights a cigarette with a twenty. Did that actually happen? Joel checks his wallet, finding a single, crumbled one-dollar bill laced with cheap perfume. He checks another wallet pocket, and finds a wealth of receipts, ATM and otherwise. Twenty dollars for a round of shots here, sixty dollars for drinks there, two hundred from an ATM in downtown Providence. Another receipt for shots. And another. And another.

Joel flips open his cell phone, and scrolls through his digital phone book. There’s only one man who can help me, he thinks.

* * *

Andy Fleischmann is a good kid with long-standing ties to Milford. Born into a middle-class Protestant family, Andy takes matters of religion and conservative politics to heart. He’s a philosopher, and a man in tune with nature. Some days of his are spent entirely in the hiking trails adjacent to his home at the edge of town. Unfortunately, the most remarkable aspect of Andy is inhuman tolerance for alcohol. Like a Viking born in the wrong era, Andy drinks the hardest of liquors, and is aware of the world around him only in the brief moments between black outs. He’s a heavyset fellow, with a mop of blonde hair on his head, and a fondness for V-neck sweaters. He also wears a pair of glasses that, as a result of his chaotic lifestyle, are continually lost or broken.

Andy stirs in his bed, as his cell phone rings next to his ear. His blackout clears, and Andy answers with a tired voice. “Hello?”

“Andy, it’s Joel.”

“Riggins?”

“Yeah. I need your help.”

“What’s up, buddy?”

“I just spent over seven hundred dollars yesterday. I need to disappear... just get away from it all. I need to be somewhere where no one can find me.”

“I hear ya. I’ll get the Vodka. Meet me at Peppercorn Hill in a half hour.”

* * *

“…And that’s why I can never get behind organized religion…” says Joel, sitting in a small clearing in the woods. Andy sits cross-legged a few feet to his right, nodding and taking periodic sips from a bottle of cheap Vodka.

Joel continues, “You have all these people, getting fed their beliefs through ‘dignitaries’ and other guys with some form of ‘authority.’”

“So you don’t think that priests or ministers or whatever have anything valuable to say?”

“It’s not that it’s not valuable, it’s that it’s spoon fed. ‘You believe what we have to say, or you’re going to Hell.’ And that’s it.”

“But do you believe in God, then?”

“Absolutely. I just don’t believe in the all the structure. I think people should believe what they want to believe, and not be told what’s right and wrong.”

“I see what you’re saying, but I still think that religion serves a purpose.”

“Of course it does, guy. I’m not arguing with you on that. I’m just saying that I don’t feel comfortable believing the basic tenants of organized religion.” Joel holds out his hand, and counts his points on his fingers. “One, everyone’s a sinner. That sucks. These churches just make everyone feel bad about themselves. Two, to get to heaven, you have to live by the ways of the church. Now you have a bunch of assholes living their lives with the specific goal of getting to Heaven, and that’s just about as ridiculous as…” He searches for an analogy.

“It’s kinda like living for retirement,” Andy contributes.

“Exactly. You see what I’m getting at. See, that’s the thing about me: I say, live for the moment. Don’t be a sucker, living life on the straight and narrow, trying real hard to live up to what someone else tells you who God is. Live life in the present, and just enjoy it, god dammit.” Joel takes a swig of the Vodka.

Andy pipes up, “No one can argue that you don’t do that.”

There is a brief pause in the conversation, as the two boys soak in the atmosphere, looking at the sunrays streaming through the trees. Joel’s phone breaks the silence. He answers, and hears Bill’s gravely voice echo down the line.

“Yo! What’s up, pussy lips? You at the site, guy?”

“Nah, I told you yesterday, guy… I’m moving today, so I’m not working.”

Bill stands in the bucket of his four hundred dollar-an-hour cherry picker, pushing levers back and forth with his right hand, and holding his cell phone with his left. He’s staring out over the adjacent Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot, watching a forty-year-old woman buckle up her screaming child into the back of a minivan. Bill adjusts the controls to get a good view of her cleavage.

Joel continues, “…And Lyons is helping me, so he’s not working today either.”

Bill stares deep into the woman’s cleavage, his attention waning from the phone conversation. “Lyons… I left him in charge, guy… If he’s not there, then who’s watching the site?”

Cut to: The painting site (a house in suburbia, as you might remember). The single worker who showed up to work shrugs his shoulders, and then settles down for a nap on the lawn.

Bill hangs up on Joel, and then searches for Donnie Savia’s number.

Cut to: Donnie’s room, where Donnie lies face down on his bed. His phone vibrates on his nightstand, and he picks it up. “Hello?”

“Yo! Fag! Get your shit together and get to the site!”

Donnie’s bloodshot eye glances at the clock as he considers his response. “I quit.” Donnie hangs up the phone and rolls over.

* * *

Joel checks the time on his cell phone. “Well, it’s getting to be that time. I agreed to pick up Lyons to help me move. You gonna stop by for poker tonight?”

“Maybe,” says Andy, while staring at the sky.

“Alright. If I don’t see you there, we should all be meeting at Baker’s house tomorrow night. His parents are out of town.”

“Nice. Very nice.”

“I’ll see ya, buddy.”

“I’ll be here.”

And that would by Andy’s last coherent memory for the entire weekend.

NEXT: TOOLING AROUND MILFORD WITHOUT BRAKES

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 8: Strip Clubbing

2007-09-14T22:13:00.001-04:00

Back in Milford, Donnie surveys the crowd at the local sports bar. He glances at his pal Jack Lyons, who’s busy bending the ear of Sean Finnerty, an Irish local and childhood friend. Donnie casually swigs his beer, and locks on to a brunette in a low-cut dress talking to a nearly identical friend at the edge of the dance floor. There’s something familiar about her face, and so Donnie takes another sip of his beer and makes his way over to her.

As Donnie approaches his prey, his mind flickers through the last days of high school, trying desperately to match the face with a name. However, as he arrives, the girl immediately notices him, and that slight morsel of nervousness that grew inside Donnie fades away.

“Donnie? Donnie Savia? Oh my god!” She gives him a partial hug, given that both of them have drinks in their hands.

“Casey…” Donnie begins.

“Fernandez! How could you forget? We used to take Mr. Campo’s chemistry class back in tenth grade.”

“Right. How have you been? What’ve you been up to?” Donnie listens to her response, but only on a subliminal level. He studies her face like a jeweler would analyze a diamond. And just as she finishes her wordy response without a reciprocal question, Donnie says exactly what’s on his mind: “You look amazing, by the way.”

Casey sighs. “That’s just because you can see my tits.” She walks away.

“But I don’t even like tits! I’M AN ASS MAN!” he shouts after her. Donnie sighs and swigs his beer down to almost nothing. His cell phone rings, and he flips it open. “What’s up, guy?”

Joel is standing on a sidewalk in downtown Walpole. “Me and Bill are heading down to that topless bar in Woonsocket in a little while. Are you interested?”

Donnie looks around the bar. “You mean KYJ’s? I heard that place just revived itself…”

“Yeah, I think they just got in a whole new bunch of strippers.”

“Sounds good.”

“Where’s Lyons at?”

“He’s here with me, talking to Sean Finnerty. He’s having another heart-to-heart.”

“Figures. Tell him to come out with us. I’ve been hangin’ with Bill all day… it’s taken a lot out of me.”

“I’ll bet.”

“So meet us there in an hour.”

Donnie looks at the nearest clock. It’s 9 PM. “We’ll be there.”

“Later.”

“Later.” The boys snap their phones shut at the exact same moment.

Across the bar, Jack is speaking energetically to Sean. And even though Sean is three years Jack’s minor, he towers over Jack by at least a foot.

“And so that’s what we need to do, Sean. You need to give Jack Lyons a call whenever something’s going down, and I can hook you up with whatever you need. See, you and me, we can own this town. Together.”

Sean looks down lethargically at Jack. “Absolutely, Jack.”

“Alright, I’m done talking. Feedback?”

Sean pauses, and the gears of his mind working are almost audible. “No, it sounds good.”

Jack is mildly frustrated, but almost too drunk to care. “Alright. Now go. Go into the world and do everything I’ve said.”

“Jack,” Donnie interrupts. “I don’t mean to break up your little speech here, but we gotta get out of here.”

“Why?”

“We got the call.”

* * *

“What’s up, kid?” Bill stumbles out of the convenience store with a case of Budweiser in one hand and a carton of Marlboro Lights in the other. “Just gotta make a call to Tony, and then we’re on the road.” He tosses a can of Bud to Joel, and cracks one open for himself. The duo begin walking down the sidewalk, back toward Bill’s truck.

Near the truck, on and around a park bench, a small gaggle of hippies wearing Grateful Dead T-shirts, hemp necklaces, and cargo pants take in the night air.

Joel shakes his head. “Fucking hippies.”

“Hey, what’d you say, man?”

“I said I hate hippies, asshole! Sure, you get high every day, but you act like that's gonna lead somewhere, like it’s gonna solve all the world’s problems! You self-righteous pricks!”

Bill is occupied by his phone call, and gets into his truck.

“Here!” Joel kicks off his sneakers. “Take my shoes, you poor fucks! Take ‘em!” Joel turns and gets into the truck, as the hippies look at him in shock as he takes off.

* * *

Five beers later, somewhere on the edge of Rhode Island, Joel feels his bladder swell. “Oh god. Bill, pull this heap over. I gotta drain.” He begins shaking his leg.

“Hold on, guy. We’re on the highway.”

“I’m serious, Bill. My piss is already filling my dick.”

“Alright sweetheart. I think I see a spot up ahead.”

Bill pulls over, and Joel springs out of the truck. He fumbles for his zipper, but it’s stuck on a piece of fabric. Suddenly, his muscles relax, and the urine drains out of him. He gives up the struggle with his zipper, and lets that feeling of relief wash over him in a wave that can only be described as awesome.

* * *

“Do you think I give too many speeches?” asks Jack, as he and Donnie pull into the KYJ parking lot.

“Nah, I’m just saying you should focus your attention more on girls than on young townies like Sean Finnerty.”

“But I’m so good with those kids. I just want to have my own army of loyal followers… I want minions.”

Donnie shakes his head as he parks the car. “That’s just a means to an end, guy. You need to just skip right to the end.”

“But how, Donnie? How can I be more like you?”

“Look Lyons, I’m not special. I’m just… very aggressive when it comes to women. Everything I know about picking up chicks… I had to learn.”

“No, Donnie, you’re a natural.”

“No I’m not, Lyons. It’s taken a lot of work, and a lot of learning to do what I do. I focus on those girls that are looking for all the same things I’m looking for: sex. And if they want more than that, well, they usually don’t want anything to do with me.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Joel and Bill pull up in the KYJ parking lot. Bill exits the cab and approaches Donnie and Jack. “What’s up, kids? You ready for this shit, or what?”

Donnie nods at Bill, then looks at the shoeless Joel Riggins. “What happened to you?”

“Ah, I gave my shoes to some hippies…”

“And your pants?”

“…And I pissed myself.”

Donnie chuckles as he tosses the non-essential contents of his pockets into his car.

The boys walk up the front steps to the strip club. Donnie slaps Jack on the back as he walks through the doors. “Let’s see these whores.”

* * *

Joel, Donnie, Bill, and Jack all mill around at the front entrance, taking in the atmosphere of the rowdy strip club as they get their ID’s checked by the bouncer. Joel, hoping that no one will notice his missing shoes, sees the white glow of his socks shining up at him under the bar's black lights.

Bill is taken aside by a blonde stripper with dread locks, Donnie goes to the bar to get a pitcher of Bud Light, and Jack finds a row of seats in front of the stage. Joel makes a beeline for the basement bathroom to dry the front of his pants with some towels. By the time Joel returns to the stage, Donnie and Jack are already there, making the occasional side-comments and wise cracks while keeping their focus on the dancers.

Joel takes a seat next to Jack. “The bathroom floor was flooded, guy. My feet are soaked.”

“I still don’t get why you gave your shoes to hippies.”

“It was the heat of the moment, Lyons. What can I say?”

A stripper makes her way over to Joel, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready?” she asks.

Joel looks at Donnie, who’s laughing to himself. “You asshole, Donnie.”

The stripper takes Joel by the hand and leads him downstairs, past the bathrooms, to the private dance section. Joel sits down uncomfortably in front of her, and as she glances at the wet spot on his pants, he responds, “Oh, I ah… spilled a beer…”

* * *

Two and a half minutes later, Joel returns. “I hate you,” he says to Donnie.

“C’mon, was it really that bad?”

“Let me tell you something: That was one of the most awkward, and mutual uncomfortable lap dances in my, or anyone else’s life. Look at me. I’m soaked in piss, and you buy me a lap dance. You prick.”

Donnie laughs.

* * *

The night wears on. Joel steps up to the bar. “Yeah, I’ll take four shots of Yeager.” He looks at the bored waitress next to him. “How you doin’ sweetheart?”

Across the bar, at the stage, Donnie and Jack are watching a stripper make her way towards them. Jack holds out a dollar bill, as she begins to flex and twist her limber body in front of him. She slides her chest over his face, pushing his hair upwards.

“Look, even his hair has an erection!” Donnie shouts. The dollar bill in Jack’s hand goes limp, as does the lump in his pants.

“C’mere,” says Donnie, as the stripper finishes her dance for Jack and tucks his bill into her G-string. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Destiny,” she says back.

“Listen, I’ll give you five dollars for your thong.”

Destiny looks at her pink underwear. “But I’ve been wearing this all night.”

“Three dollars.”

Back at the bar, Joel downs the last of four Yeager shots. He signals the bartender. “Lissen… I need four…” He looks at the empty shot glasses in front of him. “Yeager shots… for me an’ my buddies.”

“Really? You’re not gonna drink them all yourself this time?”

“No… honest…”

“I’d like to see these friends of yours.”

Joel’s tiny, raccoon eyes scan the stage. He watches as Donnie wipes his hand along a stripper’s stomach, and licks the sweat off his palm. Even the stripper is disgusted.

* * *

Minutes later, Joel is back at the stage next to his boys, holding the hand of a stripper as he flirts with her.

“That’s a cute outfit,” he says to her. “I’m glad I changed before I came her tonight, or things would have been real awkward.”

“Oh really? You usually wear garter belts and lacey underwear?”

“Only to bed, sweetheart.”

“You are too much, Joel.”

Joel coyly turns his cheek and smiles. She slips her hand out of his, and goes about her routine table dance. As she contorts her body in seemingly impossible positions, Joel can’t help but make snarky commentary. “Ooo, there ya go, sweetheart.” He nudges Jack. “Can your girl Emily do that? God knows I can.”

The stripper chuckles, as she grinds her self up against Joel’s face. She whispers something in his ear, to which he responds, “What? And get arrested?”

And so it goes. Unlike most frequenters of strip clubs, Joel and Donnie are by far the most talkative. Donnie with his endless negotiations, and Joel with his endless stream of one-liners and self-deprecating humor. It isn’t long before Bill returns from the private dance rooms, and nudges Joel.

“Let’s hit the bricks, Riggins.”

Joel checks his phone. “It’s only twelve thirty.”

“So? I’m tired of this tease. C’mon. Let’s get some hookers.”

Joel reluctantly agrees. He looks around. “Lyons, what happened to Donnie? He was here a minute ago.”

Jack looks around. “Umm, I think he went downstairs with that Mediterranean stripper.”

“Alright. Me and Bill are gonna head out, so…” he shakes Jack’s hand. “Tomorrow? Around noon?”

“I’ll see ya there, buddy.”

* * *

Minutes later, Joel and Bill take off, leaving Jack sitting on the trunk of Donnie’s car. He sits there, periodically checking his phone, for a half hour. By 1 AM, Donnie strides out of the club, shaking his head. “Man, I’m telling ya. I love Mediterranean women.” Donnie unlocks the car, and Jack gets in. “How long have you been waiting here, guy?”

“A half hour, you asshole.”

“I’m sorry, guy. I was talking with that stripper for like… twenty minutes. I only got two dances from her, ‘cause we spent so much time talking.” He stops next to the car, on the passenger side. “Hold on, I gotta take a piss.”

Jack looks away as Donnie starts up. “Turns out she likes the Dead, and none of the mainstream stuff, either. Like the obscure shit that only a true fan would know about. And you know what she called spaghetti sauce? Gravy. I wanted to melt.” His pissing continues.

“Lyons!” he shouts. “Check out this arc! It’s perfect!”

“Okay Donnie, I trust you,” says Jack, still averting his eyes.

“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you. Look into my eye.”

“Donnie, you’re an asshole.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Joel and Bill are cruising down the back roads of Rhode Island. “So where to now?” asks Joel.

“Providence.” Bill pulls out the eight ball of coke. “Gag ‘em and tag ‘em.”

NEXT: SMASH NAP!

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 7: Afternoon with Bill

2007-09-14T02:01:00.001-04:00

Stacy Kepler jogs down Chancy Lane in the warm summer afternoon sun. Her mind focuses on her breathing, keeping it steady and constant. And as the action becomes natural, her mind drifts from one concern to another. Did she remember to lock the door to her house before she left? Did she pay the right amount on her credit card bill? Where is her relationship with Steve headed? All these thoughts and more are shattered by the obscene noises and gestures of Bill Stevens, driving right along side her.

“UUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!” shouts Bill. “There ya go, sweetheart! Lookin’ good!” Bill has both of his small, T-Rex arms hanging out of the driver side of his black pick-up truck. He pulls himself back in, and returns his attention to the road. “Did you see the nuts on her, guy?” he asks Joel.

Joel looks back at his boss. “Why do you call tits 'nuts,' Bill? That’s gonna get confusing real quick, I can tell ya that much.”

“Ah, whatever guy.” Bill fumbles on the dashboard for a cigarette. “So what’s up this weekend, Riggins? It’s the ol’ summer blow out. You not gonna leave old Billy in the dark, are ya?”

“Nah guy…” Joel begins searching his mind. “Well, I know Baker’s parents are out of town this week, so we’ll probably…”

“Yeah guy. House party.” Bill flicks his cigarette ash out the window as he takes a right turn. “Just make sure you got plenty o’ coke. Call Rix.”

Joel nods. “So what’s up with your girl, Stephanie? You aren't spending the weekend with her?”

“Just tomorrow night, guy. You shoulda seen it, Riggins. Last weekend, we had a night out. Now you know she only has one ear, right?”

“Yeah. So she wears her hair down to cover it up.”

“Exactly. So she was sittin’ where you are, and I had the window rolled down, tryin’ to blow it back a little.”

Joel starts laughing. “No way, guy. So you were trying to catch a look at her missing ear?”

“Yeah guy. In the side mirror there.”

“Bill, why don’t you just date women who have all their body parts?”

* * *

A half hour later, Joel and Bill are sitting in Applebee’s. The place is crawling with wholesome, middle class types, enjoying their lunches and taking refuge from the hot afternoon sun.

“So she was a fat chick?” Bill asks.

“Yup.”

Bill takes a large swig of his beer. “I guess we all have our vices, right kid?”

A small, ten-year-old boy wanders up next to Bill, and tugs at his pant leg. “Are you a dinosaur?” asks the boy.

Bill looks down at the boy. “Nah, kid. I’m your father. Now go tell your mother that.” The boy scurries away.

Joel is laughing to himself. “T-Rex!”

“Shut up, guy.” Bill tosses a perfunctory glance at the child, clinging to his mother’s leg. “Could be my kid, who knows? Definitely not yours, Riggins.” Bill looks at Joel’s receding hairline. “I could recognize your kid at birth: It would be bald and have a little dick.”

Joel looks back at him. “What, you mean unlike all those babies out there with a full head of hair and an elephant trunk between their legs?”

“Shut up, guy.” Bill takes another large swig of beer. “I’m not the one bangin’ the fat chicks.”

“Yeah, well at least they got big tits.”

“TITS?! WHAT GOOD ARE TITS? AM I GONNA FUCK ‘EM? THAT’S WHAT HER MOUTH AND HOLES ARE FOR!”

The entire restaurant goes quiet. A shocked mother is clasping her hands on the ears of her innocent son.

Bill glances around, then finishes his beer. “C’mon Riggins, let’s go to Hooters.”

* * *

The afternoon turns into early evening, as the lunch crowd gives way to the dinner crowd.
Joel looks up at the big-breasted Hooters waitress, and thinks of slowing his alcohol intake for the day. “Yeah, I’ll take a coffee.”

“A coffee,” Bill responds, with his final word bordering on disgust. “Yeah, real cute.” Bill looks at the waitress. “Get this kid a beer.”

Joel shrugs, and the waitress flashes him a cute smirk that hints at a mutual attraction.
“So I’m rentin’ a cherry picker tomorrow. Costs something like… four hundred an hour, but something tells me it’ll be worth it.”

“A cherry picker? What for?”

“I’m doing some renovation work on a house out in Springfield.”

“Oh yeah, by the way, Bill, before I forget: I can’t come to work tomorrow. I’m moving into my new place. Lyons is helping me.”

“Whatever guy. As long as you make up the time.” Bill’s attention wanders. “Ooo, what’s this?”
Joel looks in the same direction. “That’s a potted plant, Bill.” Joel feels his stomach. “Alright, I gotta take a shit.”

Minutes pass. A girl waits in the vestibule outside the one-person bathrooms. The sound of explosive diarrhea erupts from within the men’s room, sputtering and splattering like a dying car engine. Joel opens the door, looking exhausted as he stumbles into the hallway. He catches her look of disgust on him.

“Crazy weather we’ve been having, huh?”

Suddenly, a dart flies through the air, and sticks into Joel’s calf. He lets out a sharp yelp.

“Guy, let’s play some darts! Your up!” shouts Bill from the edge of the hallway.

* * *

Four dart games, five shots, two beers, and three whiskeys later, Joel and Bill are cruising down the Mass Pike heading toward Boston.

"I'm hungry. Hand me that box of Munchkins from the back seat."

Joel fumbles around, and digs up the box of day-olds. Bill reaches in, and pulls out two chocolate frosted Munchkins, shoving them hungrily into his mouth. "Mmm... man nuts,” he says.

“What did you say?” asks Joel.

“What? You know I call tits ‘nuts.’”

“Yeah, but you said ‘man nuts.’ And that was after you shoved two testicle-sized objects in your mouth. You see, I knew that word was gonna be trouble.”

Bill begins to respond, but is interrupted by his ringing cell phone. He answers. “Yo, what’s up Rix.” Pause. “Boston.” Pause. “Yeah guy, at that Burger King. Okay, twenty minutes.” He hangs up. “We’re meetin’ Rix at the Burg.” His foot goes heavy on the gas.

* * *

Bill pulls up at the Burger King drive-through menu. “What do you want, Riggins?”

“I dunno. Get me a... Whopper.”

Bill looks back at the menu.

“Welcome to Burger King. Can I interest you in our new fresh steak—” The broken, techno voice rambles on, but the details of the pitch are lost to static, and to the mumbles of an employee who’s said the same line too many times to care about audibility.

“Yeah, I’ll take two BK Stackers, and a Whopper with extra man-glaze.” Bill stresses the last word.

“Mayonnaise?” asks the voice.

“Yeah, extra MAN-GLAZE.”

* * *

Two minutes later, Joel and Bill are unwrapping their food in the parking lot. Joel’s hamburger is swimming in a milky-white substance, and he hopes down to the pit of his soul that he bites into mayonnaise and not sperm.

Brian Rix, a tall, lanky man with curly locks taps on Bill’s window. Bill rolls it down and accepts a small package from Rix, handing him a small wad of cash in return. “There ya go, buddy. That’s an eight ball, right there. Good stuff, too.” Rix sniffs, as his wide eyes scan the parking lot.

“Thanks, kid,” responds Bill, trying to look casual. “You goin’ out tonight?”

“Nah,” says Rix. “I gotta check in with this guy from Philadelphia. It’s a long story. But Riggins…” He looks over at Joel. “You movin’ into your new place tomorrow?”

“Yeah guy,” says Joel. “We’re playin’ poker.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But I’ll definitely stop by and do some yackas.”

“Yeah buddy,” says Joel.

“Alright, you boys have fun, eh?” Rix slips into the night, and his adventures continue elsewhere.

Bill looks at Joel. “Well, we’re already in Boston. Might as well hit The Grindhouse.”

* * *

The Grindhouse is a mafia-owned, mafia-run strip club in the heart of Boston. The place reeks of underworld class, and is frequented by the sexually frustrated and hedonistic slobs birthed by dead-end jobs and married life. It’s an all-nude club, and therefore touching is strictly prohibited. The one small exception is on Thursday nights, when, for the right price, any man can get a Polaroid picture of himself with a stripper of choice.

Joel and Bill enter the front doors, teeming with a uniquely male sense of excitement. Say what you will about strip clubs, but in these places, in these corners of society, men are rewarded for their sexual appetites, rather than condemned. And for gentlemen like Joel and Bill, clubs such as this are their little slices of heaven.

Joel and Bill get settled at the bar, with the dancer making her way through a sea of hungry eyes and quickly draining wallets.

“So,” Bill starts. "This girl you banged... was she an inny or an outy?”

Joel is comically appalled. “What?”

"Did her junk hang out, or was it neatly tucked in?"

"Jeeze, Bill. I don't know. That's not really something I keep track of."

“I do, guy. I like something I can cup.” Bill makes a gesture with his hands, that in his mind looks like he’s massaging a girl’s labia, but in actuality looks like he’s cupping someone’s balls.

“Bill, are you sure you’re not gay?”

“Alright, Riggins. Hammer down.” Bill shifts his attention to a new stripper making her way to the stage. He pulls out a dollar and waves it in the air. “Here ya go, cutie. Uncle Bill will take care of ya.”

The stripper makes her way over to Bill, and sits in front of him as she straitens her top. “I almost didn’t come tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad you did, honey,” Bill responds. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jasmine,” she says as she stands and begins her routine. She begins sliding her body back and forth to the techno remixes of last year’s Latin hits, removing pieces of her exotic outfit little by little. She soon slides her chest over Bill’s grizzled face, and then leans back to remove her thong. As she kicks it off, Bill stares at her box, taking notice of a small, white rope emerging from her snatch.

In one motion, Bill nudges Joel, leans back in his stool, and points directly at Jasmine’s cootch. “UUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” he shouts, while pointing. “SHE’S RAGGIN’!”
Joel notices the small traces of blood on her inner thighs for the first time, and covers his mouth.

Jasmine immediately curls her legs inward, as she collects her tips, and removes herself from the stage. For the remainder of the night, she whimpers softly to herself, meeting no one’s glance.

Meanwhile, Joel and Bill finish their pitcher of beer. Another stripper, fresh off the stage, stops by to chat them up. She rubs Joel’s shoulder affectionately. “You want a dance, sweetie?”

Joel turns his head coyly. “Ooo, I wish I could sweetheart. But I don’t have any extra cash.”

“I’m sure your friend here could help you out.”

Joel looks at Bill. “Think again, Riggins. But hey, while you’re here,” Bill continues, “Can we get a Polaroid?”

Seconds later, Joel and Bill are holding the stripper up in front of a Polaroid camera, her arms draped over the boys’ shoulders, and each of her legs held by their arms.

Bill tosses Joel a glance. “Y’know, guy, we should use this to promote the painting company…”

“Yeah, Bill, that’ll go over real well.”

NEXT: MORE STRIPPERS

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 6: Gameful Employment

2007-08-28T14:48:00.000-04:00

The sun sits high in the summer sky as the painters begin to break for lunch.

A few freshly delivered and piping hot pizzas sit on the trunk of Donnie’s car. Jack grabs a slice covered in broccoli and a random assortment of meats, as he takes a stroll toward the shade. While taking his first bite, his eye is caught by the image of a teenage Asian girl peeling open a banana in the kitchen of an adjacent house. She methodically removes the banana from its skin, and inserts the entire fruit in her mouth in a single bite. Jack’s mouth gapes at the sight, and immediately drops his lunch onto the grass and runs to the nearest bathroom, his pants quickly tightening during the whole trip.

Joel emerges from the in-ground backyard pool, wearing nothing but his soaked boxer shorts. “What’s the rush, Lyons?”

Bill pulls up in his truck beside the house, tossing his cigarette butt at the ground as he stumbles out of the cab. He looks at one of his workers, who is stretched out on the front lawn, soaking up the sunshine with a look of complete tranquility on his face. Bill opens the nearby pizza box and pulls the cheese off the pizza. He tosses it directly onto the worker’s face, who wakes up screaming. The sizzle of scalded flesh hisses over the scream, as the worker takes off in the frantic search for the hose.

Bill grumbles after him, “Get your shit together, guy. No sleeping on the job.”

Bill lumbers around the house, surveying the progress. He stops at the back screen door, where the wire screen is partially covered in paint. “Riggins! Who did this?”

Joel, now fully dressed, walks up beside him. “Um… I think that was Donnie.”

Bill sighs. “I need a joint. You got one?”

On the shady side of the house, Donnie is holding his cell phone in front of a small cluster of co-workers. They all gape at the video clip of him railing the girl he met just last weekend, and who he’ll avoid for weeks to come.

“Who is that?”

“What? The girl?” Donnie asks.

“No, whose dick is that?”

“Whose do you think?” Donnie shakes his head. He holds the near empty bottle of Vodka in his opposite hand. “You,” he says, pointing to the smallest worker. “Go vertical on this.”

The worker grabs the bottle reluctantly, and then aims it at the sky as he takes a swig. He hands it back.

“You fucking pussy,” Donnie begins. “I didn’t see any air bubbles! You think you can fool me? Huh? You think you can fool someone who drinks as much as I do?”

Mrs. Mathers, a forty-year-old rich soccer mom, pulls up to her house in her Dodge Caravan. Hearing the engine, Bill hands his joint over to Joel, and hastily slaps some paint onto his hands and face. He walks to the front lawn. “Good afternoon, missus. What can I do for ya?”

“Oh, I’m just here to pick up some papers for work. How’s the job going?” She shovels through her large purse, only paying half her attention to Bill.

“Ah, it’s going great. I been here all morning keeping these clowns in line.”

Suddenly, the sound of Donnie shouting “JOHN ANTHONY!” comes from the side of the house.

“Hey Savia!” Bill shouts back. “Hammer down!”

Mrs. Mathers looks over at Donnie, who’s walking around the yard trying to steady himself. “Is he okay to work?” she asks.

“Oh yeah, guy. Everyone who works for me is certified.” Notice he didn’t specify what his workers were certified in.

“I see.” She responds cautiously. “Well, I just need to run in and grab a few things. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Bill walks off and waves at her. “Take your time.”

Mrs. Mathers is soon washing her hands in the kitchen sink, looking at the clothesline with a sense of confusion. Suddenly, Jack emerges from the bathroom with a look of complete guilt on his face. He quickly buries his head in his shoulders and exits the house.

Mrs. Mathers returns her gaze to the backyard, as Joel snatches his boxer shorts off the clothesline. Joel notices her looking at him, and then waves with a smile. “Don’t worry, they’re mine.”

In minutes, the owner is on her way, and the general ambience of the worksite is much more relaxed. Bill sits on the stoop, like a giant, shaven, summertime Santa Clause in work boots, puffing a joint, and rehashing the sexual misadventures of his previous weekend.

“Well, the rules were, we had to do it in the dark. Like pitch black. Then I just went hog wild on her.”

“So you’ve never actually seen this girl?” asks Joel.

“Nah guy, we met online. Set everything up there. And check this out: it was all anal.”

“So… how do you even know it was a girl at all? If you’re banging in the dark, and there’s no box involved…”

Bill pauses, considering the question and it’s implications. He shakes his head, “Nah, it was a girl. I’m pretty sure it was.”

Joel starts laughing at him.

“Alright, shut up Riggins. There was one point where I was givin’ her the ol’ reach around. Y’know, just to make sure.”

“And?”

“Well, she moved my hand away. But I just figure she’s crotch shy.”

“Ha! You fucked a dude!”

“I’m pretty sure it was a dame, guy. Shut your mouth.” Bill flicks the joint to the ground, and stumbles over to the paint thinner. “Yo Lyons.”

“Yeah?”

“I saw your girlfriend last weekend, guy.” Bill begins washing his hands in the paint thinner. “She’s a cute little package.” He then splashes the thinner on his face and neck.

“Thanks Bill.”

Bill snatches a dirty towel and wipes the paint thinner out of his eyes. “Yeah guy. She Irish or what?”

“I dunno.”

“Must be, guy. She’s paler than you.” He tosses the towel at Lyons and walks off. “Yo! Riggins! Let’s hit the road, kid. I gotta do some estimates.” He walks up to his truck. “And maybe we’ll hit a titty bar along the way.”

NEXT: AFTERNOON WITH BILL

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 5: Jack Lyons

2007-08-27T23:08:00.000-04:00

Jack Lyons climbs down from his ladder to greet Joel. Jack is shorter than his peers, even if his age is the same. His pale skin is evidence of his Scottish heritage, but his muscular build suggests he is not free from the concerns of vanity. Jack’s formerly red hair, now brown with age, dangles in his eyes. He holds out a paint-covered hand for Joel to shake.

“What’s up Lyons? How’s the morning treatin’ ya?”

“Well, it’ll be a lot better without Bill hangin’ around, I’ll tell ya that much. So, is Donnie with you?”

Donnie walks up to Jack with the kind of saunter that only a man of infinite confidence would possess. “JOHN ANTHONY!” shouts Donnie, as he slaps Jack on the back with a sinister smile. “Sorry, I just watched Two for the Money last night. So, how’s that girl you’ve been banging?”

Jack looks at Donnie. “What, you mean… my girlfriend?”

“Whatever.” Donnie holds up the bottle of Vodka. “C’mon Lyons, don’t be a total pussy. Go vertical on this.”

* * *

The minutes slide into hours, and the painting crew goes about their morning as unsupervised twenty-year-olds would.

Joel and Jack sit on the roof, passing a Gatorade bottle filled with any number of hard liquors between them. They sweat out the summer sun, and the conversation invariably finds its way to Joel’s life choices.

“Man, that chick was pair-shaped. I didn’t know if I was fucking a girl or one of the Fruit of the Loom crew,” remarks Joel.

Jack laughs and takes a sip of the “Gatorade.” “So what happened then?”

“Ah, ya know. Her father chased me out of the house. But you know something, Lyons? I know Donnie always busts my balls for banging fat chicks, but hey, we all have different life experiences that take us in different directions. It’s like you once said, walk a mile in my shoes. You can’t rightfully judge someone unless you’ve had their experiences.” Joel takes a swig of the booze. “But hey, fat girls need lovin’ too, you know. I see myself as a bringer of good fortune to those in need.”

Jack laughs again, then pauses. “Well, it’s not like you’re completely gone, Riggins. You are good at flirting; you’re just too drunk most of the time to make it classy. You can open girls like a champ, but when it comes to closing…”

“There you go again, Lyons. With your sales speak.”

“But you have to admit, it applies…”

“Yeah, I guess so. Now that you mention it, I do get blacked out most nights these days.”

Jack starts up, “Yeah, don’t you hate it when you’re having drunk sex and—”

Joel cuts him off. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Lyons. The last time I had sex sober was 1987. Uncle Timmy was ruthless.”

NEXT: GAMEFUL EMPLOYMENT

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 4: Bill Stevens

2007-08-27T23:05:00.000-04:00

“REMIX!” The shout of Missy Elliot echoes down Chestnut Street, a small stretch of suburbia in Ashland, Massachusetts. A small painters crew, numbering at about a dozen workers, covers the three-story home of Mr. and Mrs. Mathers. They’re a sloppy bunch, all in their late teens or early twenties, earning some extra cash before the start of the new school year.

Bill Stevens, the oldest among them at twenty five, supervises the work. He makes the occasional phone call or two to potential customers, managers, and whatever coke dealers he happens to have on speed dial. Bill is burly man, the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to get into a fight with. He towers over everyone, and has a grizzled appearance that suggests that’s he’s no stranger to heavy drinking and street brawling. Even though Bill’s head and face are shaved, a thick stubble covers them both.

But perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Bill Stevens is his build: His large lower half is contrasted by his relatively small arms, giving him the overall appearance of a Tyrannosaurus Rex in human skin. “Yo, Rix, Bill Stevens here. You call me when you get that eight ball, kid. I can’t spend all weekend smokin’ that shit I got last Tuesday.”

Bill hangs up as he watches Donnie’s Camry pull into the driveway.

“About time you showed up here.” Joel and Donnie emerge from the car with red eyes. Bill nods at Donnie, “So Savia, this your first day working for me, huh?”

Before Donnie can respond, a painter falls off a ladder, landing flat on his back. Bill shouts over, “Hey, you’re fired, ass face!” He turns back to Donnie, “Good timing, guy. We just got an opening. But hey, as Jimbo over there just made clear to you, we don’t get into that workman’s comp bullshit around here. I’ll fire you before you before you hit the ground. Negligence is grounds for dismissal. You get me?”

Donnie nods as he takes off his jacket. “Yeah, okay Bill.”

“Riggins,” Bill shouts over to Joel.

“What’s up buddy?”

“You show this kid the ropes, alright? I can’t stick around here all day.”

“Alright Bill. No problem.”

Bill stumbles away, pausing to shout at a worker repainting the same spot several times. “Yo, Lyons! This isn’t art class! Get your shit together, we don’t got all day!”

Bill flips open his phone. “What’s up, kid? I’m headin’ over now.” He opens the door to his Chevy pickup, and gets in. Keep the beers cold, guy. See ya then. Nargle.” He hangs up and speeds off.

Donnie pulls a bottle of Vodka out of his car. “Alright, who wants to go vertical on this?”

NEXT: JACK LYONS HAS A HEART-TO-HEART

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 3: Beat Her About the Brow

2007-08-27T23:02:00.000-04:00

Donnie takes a perfunctory glance at himself in the vanity mirror above the passenger seat. The gel from the previous night is still holding his short blonde hair in some semblance of style. He flips the visor back into place, just as Joel hands him the freshly packed bowl.

“I’m telling you, guy… that has to be one of the hottest things a girl’s ever said to me.”

Joel, leaning forward in his seat, laughs in surprise. “’I want you inside of me’? Are you kidding? That’s the last thing I want to hear from a girl.”

“No, think about it, guy. It’s primal. It’s like she’s begging for your seed.”

“PAH!”

Even Donnie is amused by his last comment. “Why? What turns you on, Riggins?”

“Let me tell you something: If a girl says ‘I want you inside of me…’ that’s just gross. No, what I want is a girl who’ll let me beat her about the brow.”

Donnie shakes his head as Joel continues. “’Cause you gotta figure, if a girl will let you just do this,” Joel starts slapping and massaging his face. “…With your cock, that means she’s pretty much up for anything.”

“This from a kid who bangs fat chicks.”

Joel shrugs. He takes another drag from the bowl.

“Alright Riggins, I’m gonna let you in on something here, because I’m a nice guy these days.”

“These days? What, since just now?”

Donnie ignores the comment. “I was talking to Jamie last night, and her friend… You remember Caitlin Briggs?”

“Yeah, she was a freshman when we were seniors, right?”

“Yeah, Andy Briggs’s younger sister. Well anyway, she and Jamie might stop by at your new place tomorrow night. Which reminds me…” Donnie reaches in his pocket. “Did I show you this yet?” He pulls out his Nokia cell phone and presses a few buttons.

“What’s that? Your weekend with that biker chick?”

“Yeah guy. The one we met at Sorrento’s.” Donnie passes his phone to Joel. On screen is a point of view video of two sweaty crotches colliding. The sounds of a girl moaning, as well as the sloppy, wet slapping sounds of sex accompany the clip. Donnie begins laughing.

“Jeeze,” says Joel with a disgusted smirk.

“She said she wanted me inside of her.” Donnie’s laugh turns hysterical.

NEXT: BILL STEVENS, AKA T-REX

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 2: Donnie Savia

2007-08-21T17:55:00.000-04:00

The front door of the Riggins household creaks open. Joel saunters in, with his clothes shredded and stained by the mud and grass from his escape at the Buckley house.

“Joel? Is that you?” asks his mother from the kitchen. Joel stops and walks toward her.

Joel passes the family room, where his father reads the Milford Daily News. Mr. Riggins has an extremely high hairline and an enormous chin. His words ooze with dry sarcasm. “Looking sharp, Joel.”

Joel nods as he continues to the kitchen. His mother sits at the kitchen table, cutting out coupons from the paper without looking up. “Did you and your friends watch the game last night?”

“Yeah.” Joel runs his fingers through his hair as he walks over to the kitchen sink for a glass of water.

“Joel!” screams his mother. “What happened to you?!”

Joel looks down at himself. He’s wearing a pair of sneakers without socks, boxers without pants, and a ripped T-shirt, covered in blood, mud, grass, and scratch marks. “It was a pretty rough slide into second.”

* * *

Donnie Savia winces as at the morning sunshine that creeps through his bedroom blinds. He sits up, rubbing the throbbing vein at the left side of his temple, while retracing his previous night unsuccessfully. He walks in a trance over to his dresser, where he produces a small bottle of morphine pills. Donnie tosses a few of the pills into his left hand and slams them into his mouth with a sense of urgency.

Donnie’s cell phone, also on the dresser, begins to vibrate. He flips it open. “Riggins.”

A half hour later, Donnie’s black Toyota Camry is idling in front of the Riggins household. Donnie is wearing his black sunglasses and no emotion. Joel opens the passenger door, and takes his seat while throwing a “What’s up, buddy,” at Donnie.

The boys make their way through the streets of Milford toward Interstate 495. “So where’d you wind up last night?”

Joel strokes his face. “Ah, ya know… the usual. Banging fat chicks.”

“I’m telling you, Riggins, you gotta get out of that.”

“Ah… at least it’s good for my abs.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause when I’m lying in bed with a fat chick, I’m trying not to roll into that huge dip they make in the mattress.”

Donnie gets onto the Interstate, and lays on the gas.

“Jesus!” Joel braces himself in the car as Donnie pushes the car to speeds in the triple digits. Donnie, who’s not wearing his seatbelt, begins to laugh hysterically.

“You fucking pussy.”

Donnie swerves across two lanes and slams the car to a halt in the breakdown lane. “Fine. You drive.”

NEXT: BEAT HER ABOUT THE BROW

The Legend of Joel Riggins part 1: Thursday Morning Coming Down

2007-08-21T16:49:00.000-04:00

It’s a sunny morning in late August. The loud bird chirping that announces the new day is slowly dying out to the sounds of garbage men and other early risers. Suburbanites are making coffee and watching the Today Show through crusty eyes. But on Park Street, in a two-story house with a white picket fence, and a flower garden creeping up the sides, Joel Riggins is nursing a different kind of sluggishness. The veil of blackout is being lifted, and while the night before was foggy, and plausibly deniable, the morning after is as clear as an Albino’s veiny skin.

The alarm clock clicks over from 6:59 to 7:00 as the radio turns on: “…and the Sox lose again…”

In the adjacent bed, Joel’s left eye snaps open. It is accentuated with eye crust and is thoroughly bloodshot. It looks around the room cautiously, recognizing the room as feminine but not familiar. The spent condom sticking to the pink carpet catches his attention, and his eye widens in fear. A feminine hand comes down to stroke his five-o’clock shadow. An engagement ring accents the ring finger.

Joel leaps up and turns around. He’s wearing nothing but navy blue boxer shorts and has very clearly defined tan lines.

The girl is plump, and has acne scars beneath her smeared make-up. Her voice has the grating sound of phlegm coinciding with her every word: “What’s wrong, Joel?”

Joel backs to the door, grasping for his T-shirt and pants. “Look… umm…” He looks around the room and sees a name plaque that reads JENNIFER BUCKLEY. “…Jennifer… It’s not that last night wasn’t special…”

A motherly voice from downstairs yells up. “Honey, are you up? We need to hurry or we’ll be late for the ceremony.”

Joel repeats the word to himself. “…Ceremony?”

Jennifer rolls her eyes with the kind of sluggish sass that you’d expect from a fat chick. “Yeah… I probably shoulda told you…”

Joel walks over to the window. “Aw, no, don’t worry about it. Look, uh, I’m just gonna, y’know, take off. Get out of your hair. But hey,” He opens the window. “Look me up next time you’re ahh…” He quickly loses interest in the conversation as he looks out the window at the long drop. “…Skinnier.”

Jennifer gives him a scowl as a fist bangs on the outside of the door. A man’s voice comes booming in from outside. “Pumpkin, is there someone in there? I’m hearing voices.”

Joel has one leg out the window. He is now wearing his T-shirt and boxers, but his pants are in his hand. Jennifer’s father, a man in his early fifties, enters the room abruptly and stares at Joel. His expression instantly changes from confusion to rage. “What the hell?!”

Joel leaps out the window as the father lunges toward him. The window falls shut and catches the cuff of Joel’s pants. Joel dangles from the opposite pant leg. He looks up to see the crotch rip. He falls two stories into the bushes below.

Joel snatches up his cell phone and his brown leather wallet, as his Shaw's value club card flips into the dirt, unnoticed. Joel springs up and dashes across the lawn, through the sprinklers and the muddy grass.

The front door opens, Mr. Buckley runs into the lawn shouting and waving his arms frantically. “You asshole! It’s her wedding day!”

NEXT: ENTER: DONNIE SAVIA

The Legend of Joel Riggins: Prologue

2007-08-21T16:44:00.000-04:00

“Have you ever heard of Joel Riggins?” Dan looks out across the park at Stacy Middle School as he asks the question to his friend.

D-Man shifts his eyes to a skater kid take a face plant on the half pipe at Milford Skatepark. “I’ve heard you mention him before, I think. You like to compare him to Jake.”

Dan smiles to himself, and gives a perfunctory glance towards East Street. “Joel Riggins is one of a kind. You know, you meet certain people in this life that are… totally unique. Some of them are unique to the point that you barely believe that they’re real. That’s Joel Riggins right there. He’s like a cartoon character come to life. Almost like this celebrity that only a few people know exist.”

“So how do you know him?”

“He’s a friend of my cousin, Jack. And when I’m not hanging out with you and Jake, I’m probably with Jack, Joel, and Donnie.”

“Donnie?”

“Donnie Savia. Probably Joel’s best friend, if he ever had one. Donnie is a… well, he’s often been described an asshole. Not in any mean or derogatory sense… that’s just the best way to sum him up.” Dan’s voice trails off on his next sentence: “Though he does claim that he fights for the good guys now…”

Dan shakes the thought. “But anyway,” he continues, “Joel and Donnie are legends in their own right. They take everything to excess, but they do it well. They’ve drunk more than you’d think any man could drink, and between the two of them, they banged almost everything that you’d think a person could bang.”

A wave of nostalgia washes over Dan as he looks to the horizon. “Let me tell you the Legend of Joel Riggins.”

“…And Donnie Savia?” D-Man asks.

“Yeah, him too.”

NEXT: THE LEGEND BEGINS

Party Crashers part 8: Segue

2007-08-14T13:15:00.000-04:00

Dan emerges from the lounge with an odd sense of clarity. Jake walks up to him. "There you are. Listen, I just had a case of the splatters in the coat room, so I'm gonna assume that people are going to take offense to that."

Dan takes it in stride as he finishes his drink. "Yeah, I was thinking about leaving, too." He squints at the clock. "Where's D-Man?"

"I think he's getting a hand-job in the parking lot."

Screams start to filter down the hallway. "Oh my god! OH MY GOD!"

Dan looks at Jake. "Now when I said 'a case of the splatters,' man did I mean it."

"Yeah, clearly. Alright, let's get out of here before the police show up."

The song "Call Me Irresponsible" by Michael Buble kicks in just as the boys make their way through the lobby to the double doors. Dan nods at the doorman. "Y'know, Jake, you definitely remind me of someone..."

"Is that a fact?"

"Sure. Let me tell you a little story about a guy named Joel Riggins..."

NEXT: THE LEGEND OF JOEL RIGGINS

Party Crashers part 7: Conversation with Mr. Dark

2007-08-14T12:26:00.000-04:00

Dan withdraws to the lounge with his rum and coke, a decidedly smoother drink. The music from the banquet is a distant echo of tranquility, featuring "You're Getting to be a Habit with Me" by Mr. Sinatra.

Dan takes a seat in the leather chair, one seat away from a man wearing a Valentino suit and enjoying a glass of scotch.

"A beautiful night. I'm sure you'll agree," says the man.

"Absolutely," responds Dan.

"So what happened to your friends?" He places an odd intonation on the last word.

Dan looks around. "Um, D-Man is closing with someone, I think..."

"D-Man?"

"Devin Manning. We just call him 'D-Man' because he gets laid regularly without dating. Kind of like Donnie Savia."

The man quickly loses interest in the topic of discussion as "The Last Dance," also by Sinatra, begins playing. "Now this song brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Dan looks mildly morose as he agrees. "Yes."

"It reminds you of her, doesn't it son? What's it been? Two years now?"

"Almost exactly."

"It hurts, doesn't it, son? But as I tell you time and time again: Love is the surest route to self-destruction. And I would say, with a great of certainty, that your life will end because you chose to love."

"Why do you have to say things like that?"

The man holds up his hands apologetically. "I'm just pointing out what I see. You're a very sensitive person, Daniel. You just need to divorce yourself from your emotions a little more."

"Ignore my emotions? Is that even possible?"

"It is if you commit yourself to it." The man leans forward. "Look: Feelings are only dangerous when you believe that they have significance." He sips his drink to almost nothing. "You have to understand, Daniel... There is no other being on this earth that genuinely cares for you. You let yourself fall into that trap too easily, too readily; you prefer to believe that there are other humans that have a sincere concern for your well-being. This is not true. Humans are liars, whether they lie to themselves, or whether they lie to you, it matters not. They are ignorant, and regardless of whether they realize this or not, they are incapable of truth."

"That's a pretty negative world-view. Are you sure you belong in this story?"

The man chuckles. "That sense of humor of yours... it just might save your life."

Dan sips his drink. "I hope so."

"But seriously son, let me me just tell you this: You are alone. No human has concern outside of their own self-interest. Some acknowledge this truth, others deny it. It is your task to determine the extent of their deceptive nature. And hope... hope is nothing to cling to. Hope sustains nothing, and leads nowhere. The optimists of this world are the greatest liars in existence. They lie to themselves with such efficiency that they have no concept of reality. Don’t let yourself fall into this trap. Hope for nothing.”

"An interesting take on things... I'll give you that, Mr. Dark."

The man chuckles to himself. "Mr. Dark, eh? I like that. I'll have to keep that one in mind." He stands. "You take care of yourself, Daniel."

"Likewise."

The man turns his back on Dan as he exits, whispering one final sentence. "I'll see you around, son."

NEXT: SEGUE

Party Crashers part 6: Numbers and Letters

2007-08-14T11:45:00.000-04:00

"So how did you do?"

D-Man pulls out a few napkins from his pockets. "I think about... three numbers." He crumbles a fourth napkin, and tosses it on the bar. Jake immediately snatches it up, and mouths the word 'Tiffany' as he looks at it. "What about you?"

Dan looks forward over the bar. "A few good conversations, a few cheap feels, but you know me... it takes me more than one night to get on a girl's good side."

D-Man looks at Jake. "And you?"

Jake pulls out a piece of toilet paper with a sequence of numbers on it. "Well, she didn't say her name, but I did get her number." He hands it off to D-Man.

"Why are there letters in this?"

"Yeah, that's actually her license plate number. I know a guy at the RMV who can connect the dots for me."

NEXT: CONVERSATION WITH MR. DARK