"Serves You Right To Suffer"

A little short story to go with being a little short on cash.

                I had twelve dollars. The buy-in was ten. Ten was a lot of money. I went all in thinking I had the sixty dollar pot and then I would have the gas to get me home but I lost. I lost to pocket rockets with a third ace on the table. I had a beautiful straight. If the river had been a heart… but it wasn’t. It was a jack. The jack was a spade and it did me no good. I bid my farewells and got back in my truck. It had been the first hand. I turned my phone back on and Rosalie hadn’t gotten back to me. I dialed her number a few times and nothing. She was pretending to be asleep again. The arrow was on the line but the gas light wasn’t on. I called up James. James didn’t answer. I called Rosalie. Nothing. It was midnight. I had two dollars to my name. The radio-player in my truck was half-broken and whatever cd was stuck inside of it was stuck inside of it for good. Thankfully, and it bit ironically, it was John Lee Hooker. The blues, baby. The glorious blues. I skipped right on down to the final track and put it on repeat from there.

I wasn’t so bad off. I had enough gas to get me to my father’s. The old man would have drunken himself to sleep by now and wouldn’t be up ‘til morning. I remembered I’d left fifteen beers in his fridge. There was also the chance that he might have left his cigarettes on the counter and I was out of cigarettes. So I wasn’t so bad off. I drove there. I took the beers. There was a fresh pack of cigarettes on the counter. I took those, too. I got back into my truck and parked under the big bridge down by the river and smoked the cigarettes and drank the beer and listened to John Lee Hooker. I missed Rosalie. I missed her a lot. It seemed evident to me however that she was not missing me all that much. By now she would definitely be asleep. I tried to joke with her earlier but she didn’t take it as a joke and was giving me the silent treatment I supposed, whatever it was. We always told each other good night and sweet dreams and I told her so tonight but she had not returned the sentiment. She left it at the offense she took from me, which I had no intention of intending. I took a pull off the can and one from the smoke and leaned back. There were plenty of books in my truck. I looked out at the river and the lights floating atop the street poles and the security lights from the storefronts. It was misty and the dark sky had a grey to it and no stars were out and it was still raining just enough but not too much.

                I’m getting drunk now. It is a great feeling. It is not as great of a feeling as lying with Rosalie before falling asleep naked flush against her naked skin. There is no feeling as great as that one but that one is not an option tonight. I hope it will be again someday. 

Reviews

[roarke]

This reminds me of Kerouac, only clearer. Great traveling stream of consciousness, tangible. Cris, you pack in a lot with just the right amount of words. Give us more.