What kind of world are we living in, where people will take advantage of a man just because he is drunk and passed out in a strip club? A hard, cold world – that’s what kind.
Councilman Randall T. Jones woke up on his back in the dark. His head ached and he was wet and cold. He lay still and tried to get his bearings. Quiet seemed to be the prevalent noise. The quiet assaulted his ears. No, wait – he could make out the sound of traffic, but it was distant. A dog barked and the echo reverberated. It was quiet yes, but not as overwhelmingly so as he had initially believed.
There was a smell; even with his thick head the smell was awful. What was that? He struggled to lift himself to a sitting position and realized what the smell was. He had soiled himself and was lying next to a dumpster. He scrabbled backwards and leaned against the wall. The dumpster smelled of old grease and rotting produce, his feces smelled worse.
As his vision cleared he studied the surroundings. He appeared to be in an alley. A cat howled above him and when he looked up he saw high brick walls and fire escapes. A faint line of stars was visible beyond that. Then he saw the woman next to him. She was still. Her skirt was bunched around her waist and her panties were bunched around her knees. He leaned over and looked at her face. She was the girl from the club.
He immediately thought of his wife. Angie would be pissed if she found out that he had been with another woman, even if she was just a stripper. Angie wouldn’t buy that argument, and she was the jealous type, she would tell her father. Angie’s dad had juice in this town. He was the reason Randall had been elected – not a man to be crossed and, if you cheated on his little girl? He shuddered, just didn’t want to consider the consequences.
Nudging her shoulder he said, “hey, wake up.”
He shook her shoulder a little bit, “Hey!”
He reached for her hand and lifted her arm, “Wake up!” Her arm bent oddly and he realized it was broken near her wrist. He dropped it like a hot potato.
Oh, shit, he thought. Get out. Get out fast!
Using garbage bins as walking sticks, it seemed to take hours to get to the end of the alley. He surveyed the street, no traffic, no pedestrians. A liquor store was on the first corner, thankfully it was dark. A payphone hung on the wall next to the door. He made his way to the phone slowly moving from parking meter to parking meter. He picked up the receiver and dialed 411.
“Operator, I need a number for Jimmy Caccitori on Lake, please.” He croaked.
“I have a listing for a James Caccitori on that street. Would you like me to connect you?”
He heard the distant ringing on the other end of the line. It was picked up and Jimmy’s voice said “Hello.”
“Jimmy, it’s me. I need your help. I’m in trouble.”
“Where are you Councilman?”
It got a little dark on my page today. Maybe these will cheer you up!
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