“Pig…PIG,” hissed his best friend Jack, shaking him from a booze induced slumber. “Let’s go.” “Yeah!” Not quite remembering where he was. The sudden shifting of the undersized futon he had shared with the pretty red head he had spent the night with jogged his memory as to last night’s events. He shot his friend a shit-eating grin that told him “wait until you hear this” never speaking a word. Pig rolled out of bed quickly, showing some agility for a guy his magnitude. Jack took a knee to tie his work books. Pig retrieved his pants off the floor, still smirking. Obviously proud of himself. Jack and Piggie weren’t lifelong friends by any means. They had met relatively recently in fact, cellmates for a night in the local jail. Pig was in for a fist fight turned riot at a local dive bar; Jack got hooked and booked two hours earlier for disorderly contact after a ‘confrontation with a police officer due to a minor fender-bender.’ At least that’s how Piggie told it. What really happened was Jack rear-ended a police cruiser who tuned up his siren just long enough to pass him. These were bad guys. Not the kind of bad guys who would rob old ladies or kick a puppy, just the kind of guys who didn’t care. Careers, girls, money, responsibility, all things most people value, only got in their way. Even consequences were nothing more than lucrative opportunities. The morning was warm for only having two hours of daylight. The guys made their hasty escape out the back door, not bothering to wake the girls. As they walked to the truck, Pig padded his pockets making sure he left nothing important behind. “Got everything?” Pig said, meeting Jack’s look of despair, watching him stuff his hands into his pocket. “Coke?” “Got it,” he said in return, walking a little taller. They got to Jack’s truck, a relic from the early 80s red and dented, plenty of primer. Every time he turned a screwdriver, the engine roars to life.
Posted on: Wed, 30 Jul 2014 17:53:03 +0000
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