A good while back a friend sent me a link to an interesting news story. After reading it I got the idea for a story that was something in the lines of Grumpy Old Men in the Mob. Here is part of the story. I’ll post the rest at a later date. Warning: the dialogue used in this story is crass at best, and can be down right foul, just the way some grumpy old dudes would talk, at least in my mind. Enjoy.
Frank sat in the driver’s seat of the used Ford cargo van gritting his teeth as he waited. Parked outside a gas station in Erath, Louisiana, Frank rubbed his hands together and blew into them trying to warm them up. He had not been there long, but the smell inside the van was pungent with the odor of burnt gunpowder and residual animal blood. He tried to tell himself he could get used to the smell, but it wafted over him every so often making him wrinkle his nose and give it a hard blow into a paper napkin trying to expel the smell. A police car pulled into the space next to him. Frank gave the officer a slight nod with a friendly wave of two fingers rising off of his clasped hands while exhaling his breath into the hollow space engulfed by his palms. The officer paused for a moment before returning the gesture with a nod.
“God damn it,” Frank said into his hands. “Hurry the fuck up.”
As the policeman opened the door of the convenience store he stepped back to let an elderly man, about the same age as Frank, exit. His hair stuck out under the edge of his cap like wispy white wings. His face, though wrinkled, held an air of youth in the eyes. Though Frank’s hair was dark with a light mixture of grey, deep wrinkles on his leathery face showed his age. The other man carried two small brown paper bags, each holding a 32 ounce can of Miller High Life. The elderly man nodded at the officer and said something Frank couldn’t hear, then looked up at the van, and it’s occupant, and made his way to the passenger side door. Once inside, and the door closed, he passed one of the beers over to Frank.
“Don’t give me that,” Frank said. “You trying to get us arrested?”
“What?” said the man. “Take it.”
“Just set it down dumb ass,” said Frank.
“Dumb ass?” said the man. “I buy you a beer and you call me a dumb ass.”
“Oh shut up, dickhead,” said Frank. “I want the beer, just not right now. Not with a cop sitting right beside me.”
“He’s not there,” said the man. “He’s inside.”
“I know he’s inside,” said Frank. “I saw him go in there. Held the door open for you. If he was a Boy Scout he would have helped your feeble ass to the car.”
“I’m not feeble, you shit head,” said the man. “We only stopped here so I could go pee. I grabbed a couple of beers because I thought I’d be nice.”
“What the hell took you so long anyways?” said Frank. “I know there wasn’t a line in there, plus you have the bladder of a two year old.”
“It took a while, OK.”
“You got VD or something? No that cant be it, who the hell would lay your ugly ass.”
“I do just fine,” said the man. “And no, I don’t have VD, you dumb shit. It just took a while.”
“What?” said Frank. “What do you mean it took a while?”
“It just did, that’s all.”
“Just tell me Winston,” said Frank.
“Fine, you really want to know?” said Winston. “Here lately when I go to pee it takes a little while to get the flow going.”
Frank began to laugh, slapping the steering wheel as he guffawed.
“Jesus Christ,” said Winston, “you wanted to know.”
“That has to be the dumbest thing I ever heard,” said Frank.
“You know what? To hell with you,” said Winston. “Your not getting the beer now.”
“Oh come on,” said Frank. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Yeah right,” said Winston, “dickhead.”
“At least I can go when I want to,” said Frank as he laughed again.
It took a moment, but Winston began to laugh as well. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get the hell out of here and turn the heat on in this thing will you.”
“Hell no,” said Frank. “It smells bad enough in here. If I turn on the heat it will only make it worse.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you had this master plan of yours,” said Winston. “I can’t believe I went in half with you on buying this shit heap of a van.”
“It’s customized,” said Frank.
“Customized, my ass,” said Winston as he looked into the back of the van. “There’s nothing in here except three dining chairs with the legs sawn off that’s bolted to the floor.”
“It has gun ports,” said Frank, “on three sides.”
“Oh, excuse me,” said Winston. “I left out the gun port option of the package. A lot of good they do too. I’m surprised we don’t get pulled over, or your cop friend in there don’t come around asking questions.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” said Frank.
“I beg to differ,” said Winston.
“Oh shut the hell up,” said Frank. “You’ve always been a stick in the mud, maybe even a dick in the mud. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with your peter over there, clogged up.”
“It’s not clogged you dumb ass,” said Winston. “It’s just… you know what, to hell with you. I’m definitely not giving you the beer now.”
“Oh quit your bitching,” said Frank.
“Can we get the hell out of here now,” asked Winston.
“Hold on a second,” said Frank.
“Where are you going?” said Winston.
Frank opened the door and stepped down onto the concrete. “I’ve got to pee,” said Frank. “Why don’t you time me so you can see how long it takes a real man to take a piss.”
“You know,” said Winston, “I might just do that while I’m drinking your beer.”
“Don’t do it Winston, I want that beer when I’m done,” said Frank. He closed the car door and walked to the entrance of the store. The policeman was exiting and held the door open for Frank. Frank thanked him after the two men said “Evening,” and went in their separate directions.
Inside the men’s room, Frank straddled the urinal, unzipped his fly and waited to pee.
“What the hell?” said Frank. “Come on damn it.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said to himself. “Come on, you can do it.”
Frank Winston is now available on Amazon for $0.99. Grab a copy and find out the rest of the story.