THE MACK (standard:drama, 489 words)
Author: Magic Manny	Added: Dec 20 2003	Views/Reads: 3376/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
One man's pending moment.

The Mack was some dude I knew that picked up girls with the most
straight-awful car I have ever seen.  It was a yellow Honda Civic that 
had zebra patterned seats and ‘Fuck You Nascar Bitches!!!' 
spray-painted along the sides in pea-green.  He actually paid me to do 
it for him, too.  Not in that fancy graffiti shit you see, but in my 
own skanky handwriting.  Most fun twenty bucks I have ever made.  He 
was also once married, or so he claimed, to a famous TV actress, but he 
used to get all damn excited if you said the TV stood for 
‘transvestite'.  Man, I tell you, there was this one time when The Mack 
busted up some guy's face for insinuating that this famous TV actress 
was uglier than Graile's pig... and this dude that got bust up didn't 
even say that The Mack's ex-wife was a fucking tranny, neither: just 
goddam butt ugly.  Yeah, The Mack was a fucking violent dude. 

Anyway, this one day myself and Braydon were working on our pool moves –
I've got this scam down where you... the hell I'm doing?  I don't wanna 
go wrecking my sure-fire buck-bagging entrepreneurial sting with you 
fuckos, huh?  Hell no.  Man, I digress: well, Braydon was working up a 
real sweat and getting in a real mean tizz cos I was not divulging my 
craft, when in came The Mack covered in blood. 

“Fuck, Mack.  The hell happen to you?” said Braydon. 

“Gimme a beer,” said The Mack. 

“Don't you goddam speak to me like that, ya hear?” said Braydon.  He
began swinging his pool cue, and I knew to back the fuck away – he 
could be a tough hombre when pushed.  “Now what the fuck happen to 
you?” 

“Gimme a beer,” said The Mack.  “And there ain't shit you can do to me
cos I already gone fuck things up real good.” 

I turned to Braydon and watched as his temples swelled up like frogs and
his face discoloured like a fucking crushed black grape.  But Braydon 
didn't move, man: he did not fucking move. 

Pinky, this skinny Hispanic chick who worked the days behind the bar,
popped a bottle of Miller open for The Mack.  And The Mack made no 
effort to wipe the blood from offa his face, too.  No one said a word 
as The Mack just calmly necked his beer then took off one of his tacky 
gold chains and gave it to Pinky.  He then finished up his beer as the 
police sirens busted up the daytime stupor and smiled.  That cat just 
smiled at me and Braydon and Pinky.  Braydon looked kinda puzzled and 
was about to say something only The Mack just smiled as tires and 
sirens and excited hoarse voices shrieked so fucking loud outside the 
bar. 

“Best give The Mack another beer,” said Braydon to Pinky, turning to
resume our game. 

Magic Manny Copyright 2003


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