This piece was written for OLWG#170
When Big Jim woke up the room appeared shrouded in fog. His head felt as though it had been filled with molasses, and there were two Victoria’s leaning over him, studying him. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and shook his head, gently, the two Victoria’s merged back into one.
“What the hell happened?” Big Jim groaned. He tried to sit up.
“Stay put,” Victoria advised, “if you try to get up now you’ll fall down again.”
“Who are you? Are you a doctor? What happened?”
“I’m no doctor, and what happened is that I clocked you. You’ve been out for almost ten minutes. Manny called the paramedics and they should be here soon.”
Big Jim started to re-awaken to his surroundings. He recognized the dark wood paneling of ‘The Dizzy Dog’. The Labatt’s sign glowed blue neon in the front window and he could hear the crack of the pool balls from the table at the end of the bar. He could just about see Manny wiping glasses behind the bar.
“But, what happened? Why did you hit me?”
“Cause you’re a drunk, Jimbo. Victoria replied, “When that old Credence song came on the box you kept asking me to dance. You wouldn’t take ‘NO’ for an answer. Then you grabbed my ass, I wasn’t expecting that; especially not from you. I spun around and caught the side of your head with a roundhouse right. I’m not here to dance, Big Jim. I work here.”
“Jeez, Vicky, can you help me up?” he extended his right hand for an assist.
“I’m not going to help you up Jim. Stay down until the ambulance gets here. You were out for a good while. We got liability issues to think about. You get up when the medical professionals say you can get up – not before, and if you call me Vicky one more time I’ll hit you again.”
The prompts were:
- give credit.
- shrouded in fog
- he went that-a-way