Finders Keepers

Finders Keepers - Chapters 32-40

DISCLAIMER: This title contains coarse language and mature content. It is not suitable for readers 18 years of age or younger.

 

PART II
WANING DAYS OF THE DYNAMIC DIPSHITS

Chapter 32
Always Bring a Wipey

Venice, Italy - Draper's Pub
Sunday, September 4, 2005, 10:36 p.m.

Jason was shitfaced. Room-spinning, word-slurring, on-the-verge-of-blacking-out-and-puking shitfaced. Five hours guzzling Peroni will do that to a guy. Ordinarily, he would have thrown in the towel, but whereas the pub was crowded, loud and smoky, Katja was blonde, blue-eyed and Swiss. And leaning against him. And holding his hand. She had a soft German accent.

            "How 'em, did you get that scar? On yours elbow."

Fountains of Wayne came through the jukebox.

            "... Stacy's mom has got it going on ..."

            "...She's all I want, and I've waited so long ..."

            Drunk off his nut, Theo wrapped around Michelle, a redheaded Irish knockout with long legs and small breasts they met at the topless beach earlier that day.

            "... Stacy, can't you see you're just not-the-girl for me ..."

            "Yeah, mate." Theo slapped Jason's back playfully. "How did you get that scar?" 

Like flipping a switch, just as Theo's hand made contact with his back-slap-Jason saw a blast of white light.

            "... I know it might be wrong but I'm in love with Stacy's mom."

            There were streaks of screaming fluorescent color. There was the sensation of being sucked through a tornado.  And then there was garbage. Lots and lots of garbage.

***

With the lyrics to Stacy's Mom still ringing in his head, Jason was drawn to that night two weeks earlier, slumped over in Funzie's back alley. The experience was so real to him now, as if he was living that night all over again.

            One hand against the dumpster, Jason retched beneath the crescent moon shining over Long Island. Even at half-price with an employee discount, the sweet corn chowder didn't seem worth it. He flicked a yellow niblet from the corner of his mouth.

            Jason had been working at Funzie's for nearly four months, feeling like his past, present and future were all the same-just screws, embedded in a wall of disappointment, which would never come loose. One part of him wanted to blame the gods for punishing him, for dumping him in that stupid suck-ass job with those stupid suck-ass uniforms and stupid suck-ass managers with their stupid suck-ass nametags.

            But there was a voice that insisted he face facts-that his predicament wasn't because of fate, bad luck or karma, but because he had made a series of decisions that landed him there. He could blame anybody and everybody he wanted, but there was no escaping that he got exactly what he asked for.