Sins of Smoke

The Coyote

[Friday 11th July, 8:57pm]

By the time we approached the Coyote the sun was already beginning to set. I could hear the howls of the gathering prairie dogs on the nearby hills, waiting to prey on those brave enough to step outside alone at night (like some poor asshole would ever do that again). As me and Kenny walked that last half mile we played with our shadows, making them dance and hit each other on the dusty trail below. It was like we were kids again, play fighting and laughing in a way in which we ain't in years, and won't ever do again.

Before we knew it we were outside looking up at the swinging post of the Coyote – a white silhouette of the beast howling in front of a large, black moon – and the place was alive. Even from the outside we could see the shapes of a hundred thirsty locals, and hear the cries and clanging of glasses from every fucker inside. I tell you, there ain't nothing can compare to that place. It's like all your birthdays come at once every time you step through that door.

'Cooper!'

'Kenny!'

'Over here!'

There really weren't no point in them shouting. You'd have to be blind not to notice the crowd gathered round the hive of activity in the centre of the bar. If it wasn't for the smiling faces of Shackles and Tommy jutting out above the sea of heads I'd wonder what was going on, but this was his favourite party trick. I'd seen it a thousand times before and, though I couldn't see his face, I knew the signs. The way they both held his legs and raised him upside-down in the air. He was famed for shining in the spotlight and couldn't ever miss the opportunity to clown around.

Kenny scoffed his disapproval and quickly lost himself in the crowd. Even though he says he's moved on I know he ain't ever forgiven Dennis. Not really. Dennis could be cruel at times but he always seemed to crack down harder on my brother for some reason. He says it's nothing, but he always seemed a little green at the fact me and Kenny were brothers by blood, and not just by voice.

Working my way through the crowd was tough. Those folks were packed around tighter than an elephant in a barrel, but I managed to peek through and confirm my theory.

Dennis.

Of course it was Dennis. The guys were stood on chairs and circled him like a tepee, supporting his legs as he attempted to drain as much of the supporting keg as he could through a tube – and the crowd were loving it. You could see the familiar sparkle in Dennis's eyes as the circle whooped and cheered, clapping their hands loudly to encourage the bastard to continue. I couldn't help but join in and smile. As he gulped and spluttered you could see the excess liquid that failed to enter his throat leak out his mouth and up towards his nose, frothing his face like a dog with rabies.

And that's when I saw.

It happened in seconds. As I stared into the reddening face and looked beyond the amber liquid waterfall I noticed his eyes, no longer focusing on the crowd ahead. The spluttering increased with every passing second as his body began to reject the drink it could no longer handle. All around the faces watched and clapped on expectantly, but Dennis could no longer see them as his eyelids stopped fighting back against the tide and he lost consciousness. The spluttering slowed.

I began to fight through the few that remained in front of me to reach the inner circle where my friends continued to hold his increasingly limp form aloft like a 180lb prize catch, blissfully unaware, caught up in the euphoria. But this wasn't part of the act. I had seen it enough times to know how it ended, and I ain't never seen him take it this far.

'Shacks! Tommy! Put the fucker down!' I screamed, much to the annoyance of the perimeter that surrounded us. But I was oblivious to them, with only one objective on my mind. I didn't give a pig's scrotum if I was ruining their fun, I just needed to make sure he was okay.