Gary's Mostly Pointless Blog

They say you should write what you know and if I know anything, it’s awkward situations and being a bumbling doofus around women.

This week’s #fridayflash continues the epic saga of my two favorite idiots, Brad & Joe.

Speaking of that, I love Brad & Joe and I think you should too.  I write about these guys almost every week.  I plan on incorporating elements from the previous stories into each new one but I’ll try to make every story as “stand-alone” as possible.  If you’d like to catch up on who these idiots are, you can read the preceding stories here:

The Vicious Cycle

Power Words

So here it is, “Friends Like These”, my #fridayflash for the week.

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Powered By: J.M. STROTHER!

FRIENDS LIKE THESE

He wished for death.  He breathed in the air redolent with smoke and something else that made him want to vomit.  The lights were disorienting so he turned away from them as best he could.  But there was nothing he could do to get away from that awful sound; it was everywhere.  This was torture beyond anything that he had ever imagined.

How had it come to this?  How had he been so easily duped?   He knew the answer because it was the same way he was always duped.  One simple song.  “Goddamn you, Bay City Rollers.  I’ll never forgive you for that.”  He forced himself to simply accept his fate.  “Might as well try to enjoy it.”  But still he wondered just how Joe had convinced him to go clubbing while he was dealing with his stupid cold.

His whole body ached and he seemed to creak with every thundering bass note that filled the club like the heartbeat of a mighty dying god.  His eyes matched the eyes of a drunk, but the no nonsense look on his face told the story: he didn’t want to go out tonight but one of his friends convinced him.  He was the DD.

He sat at the bar, tepidly drinking his orange juice (no vodka) and occasionally blew his nose into a cocktail napkin.  Fortunately, people came and went regularly, so stuffing his used napkins into an empty glass saved him nasty looks from bartenders handling his snot rags.  He wasn’t a doctor, but he was pretty sure that a night club was the polar opposite of a place for the sick to get better.  Still he tried to make the best of it despite the inverted cauldron of snot forming in his nose.  “…and I swear to God,” he said through a stuffy nose, “if I hear Lil’ Jon say ‘yeah’ one more time—“

“Brad?”  It was the voice of an angel coming out clear and sweet through the cacophony of brainless dance music.  It was Courtney’s voice.  Courtney, the woman that he had embarrassed himself in front of more times than he could count…or remember due to the fact that he was usually drunk.  He composed himself as best he could.

”Oh, hey Courtney,” Brad said as suave and perfectly healthy as he could.  “How you doin?”

“Fine!  You look great!”  She said this with no detectable sarcasm.

“Well, you look…”

For a moment, the passage of time stopped for Brad.  Courtney was wearing a red dress that seemed to love her openly as much as Brad did secretly.  It seemed to Brad that there was nothing about this woman he didn’t completely adore.  She was beautiful, but any fool knew that.  Her personality was so uncanny, so completely her own, that her stunning looks almost paled in comparison.  He looked at her smile.  It always made him smile.  His eyes dropped down to her plunging neckline and he thought again about her red silken lover.  Her dress seemed to caress her in way that Brad had always wanted to.  Wait, he thought, I want to be a dress?  This brought time back to its normal pace.

“…great!” he said.

“Thank you!” she said, and smiled in a way that melted the ice cubes in his orange juice.

“So…who are you here with?” he said, with “What’s his name?” on the tip of his tongue.  Jealously and adrenaline rose up at the thought.

“Just a bunch of work friends,” she said rolling her eyes.  “Let me pull up a chair.”

She turned to get the nearest chair and that’s when Brad saw it.  Her dress had no back and the phrase NO BRA! repeated over and over in his head.  The jealousy was long gone but the adrenaline had shifted into second gear.  She sat down next to him a little closer than he was expecting and started twirling a bit of hair that had escaped when she put it up.  He looked at the two sticks that seemed to hold it all together in wonder.  My God, how do those sticks work?  That’s amazing!

“So, who are you here with?”

His ill-advised line of stick-related questions left his mind as he noticed in her what he thought was…fear?  Fearful anticipation maybe?  This was a good sign.  This was a very good sign.  This was one of those things that experts in men’s magazines tell you to look for.  Oh, she’s interested, Bradley my boy, he thought.  Take the upper hand.  Be cool, be yourself and she’ll dig it.  Time to relax.

“Oh…just Joe.”

“Oh,” she said slightly exasperated.

“Come on, what’s wrong with Joe?” he said playfully.

“Well…I don’t really know him that well and I don’t want to judge but…he seems like a douche-bag.”

Brad snorted laughter and all of the cool confidence he had moments earlier was gone.  The inverted cauldron of snot in his nose was gone too, all the way down to his chin.  In a flash he brought a hand up to his face and quickly wiped it away, hoping she hadn’t seen.  Without thinking, he placed his soiled hand on his jeans.

Her look was utter horror.  She had seen everything.

Brad saw her staring at his hand and he looked as well.  Again, without thinking, he brought his hand off a few inches and the club’s lights made his mucus sparkle and shimmer.

She looked at his hand and then at him.  Lil’ Jon said “Yeah!” in the background.  She slowly backed her chair away and stood up.  She walked away.

Brad sat motionless for a while until a drunken Joe came up next to him.

“Hey dude, what are you doing moping over here?!  I think I saw Courtney, go find her!  I think she has the hots for you!” and Joe was off again.

As Brad was thinking of places to hide Joe’s body, he rested his head on his hand.  The snotty one.

He recoiled.  “OH, COME ON!”