Actually, I'm so tired of hearing me say that I'm tired of not having nothing--but, I guess when you are born into this global economic caste system that this country prides itself on, have'n nothing's supposed to really be something.

These are my buddies, we all grew up together in this dirty little river town. Cook, he's the fat one, still lives at his parents house holed up in the basement like it was a bomb shelter, bedding down the occasional drunken bar slut and feeling pretty satisfied as night shift manager at the local burger joint.

Bill Ruger a.k.a. Germ, he's the bad-ass of the bunch, always shoot'n his mouth off and backing it up. Bill's been spreading herpes around here as long as anyone can remember. Tending bar helps facilitate this since he can mix the drinks to suit and steer the conversation. Bill always seems to bag the bombshells leaving Cook to jump on the hand grenades.

Tommy "T-Bone" Kendall, he's the dope head. I guess everyone knows one. He's always try'n to get me to smoke that shit.

"C'mon dude, this is good bud man." Tommy offers up as we are driving over to meet Cook and Bill at the bar.

"Listen resin head--how many times have I told you, not in my car, just put it out till we get there! Christ! I don't (sniff) now the whole damn car stinks! Thanks a lot dumb ass, you're gonna get me thrown in jail!"

T-bone finds a way to get on my last frick'n nerve sometimes.

Tommy just can't go into this joint unless he's higher than a kite. Usually he spends the first twenty minutes or so toke'n up out by the dumpster before we go in and I get stuck play'n watchdog for him.

"Not tonight asshole!" I snatch his joint and pitch it out the window. T-bone blows his traditional gasket till I agree to buy him a shot to shut him the fuck up.

By the way, my name is Ted, but everyone calls me Captain, Cap for short. I don't really know why they call me that, either it's 'cause I'm kinda like the top turd on the shit pile, or it's 'cause I wear a hat all the time. Actually, it could be because I have a high school diploma.

Anyway, we were all born and raised in Fort Madison. It's a small blue collar town in southeast Iowa straddling the Mississippi River, real Huck Finn stuff. We spent most of our childhood catfishing and trying to steal beer and cigarettes when the opportunity presented itself. Our parents became professional victims in short order. Nowadays, as adult delinquents, our life's goal is to get jobs at the state prison--on the right side of the bars.

Right now I'm laid off from my awesome (sarcastic) job on the barges. I do love being out on the river map'n scour holes and eddies for monster cats, but my foreman is a slave drive'n prick! When we ain't busy, I gotta chase a pile of dirt around the deck with a broom instead of dropping a worm. God I hate him! Unemployment ain't enough to get me by during winter freeze up, and cart'n my friends sorry asses all around town in a seventy-six Caddy doesn't help my financial situation in the least.

Pulling up to the bar, I have to air my car out before playing watch dog for Spicoli. He immediately jets across the gravel lot for the dumpster while simultaneously rolling another fatty; it's almost like watching a ballet.

"Hurry up, let's go Tom!"

I just need a beer.

Germ's work'n the bar tonight at the Southside Brew Pub, so drinks are always priced right--mostly free.

"Word up Billy Bob!" I greet Bill as Tommy Chong and I fumble up to a bar stool.

"Had to throw a couple dickheads outta here earlier; nothing too serious." Germ says, not even looking up from the screwdriver he's mixing me.

"Looks like you've been hanging out by the dumpster Tommy." Bill shoots a glance at T-bone.

"Blow me Germ, just grab me a Bud." T-bone fires back.

"Where's fat-ass Cook tonight?" I ask Bill.

"He's closing tonight, said he'd show up later, something about a poker game too."

Busting out these creampuffs at a poker table has become second nature for me. I have absolutely no conscience when it comes to check raising my friend's right into the loser lounge. Poker has managed to keep my car on the road and smokes in my pocket; besides, since none of these freeloaders ever cough up any gas money, I feel it makes us even.

"You still sleep'n in the back Germ?" I ask Bill between drags.

"Nah Cap, I've been stay'n over by Linda's place. Kelly won't even look at me right now." Bill sighs.

Linda and Kelly are two of Germ's girlfriends. He's got a son with each of them, plus, he's got a daughter with a gal from up in Burlington. All three of these women have a love/hate thing going on with Germ. They hate him for burning them with herpes and being a deadbeat, but they just can't walk away. I think they feel sorry for him, and each believes that somehow, if they can make a new man out of him, he will be loyal to them. These women are suckers! Bill knows he's a good look'n guy and he ain't got any intentions of being loyal to anyone. Personally, I think he just doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone unless it's about him or his penis. I guess it's easy not to care about anything when you've been mopping up glass and puke at the Southside for Jack Holstrom for the last eight years.

Jack's Southside is your standard brick circa eighteen-nineties dive. Jack bought it back in the seventies for twenty-one grand plus some gambling debts, and he hasn't put a dime in it since. Jack lets Bill stay here in the stock room when ever he can't get a woman to look after him. You would think that sleeping in this urine-soaked hellhole would be enough to drive any man straight, but I suspect its all part of Germs "feel sorry for me" act. I promise the action doesn't stop around here at closing time. Sooner or later, Linda will get her fill, and Bill will be dragging his sorry ass back here once again with his pillow under his arm.

"You ready for another drink Cap?" Bill hollers.

"Yeah, set us up again."

Tommy and I are having it out on the pool table for a fin a game and I'm starting to get pretty loaded. God damn Germ makes 'em strong!

"Hey Bill, you wanna cash my unemployment check for me?" I yell down the bar.

"I don't think we have that kinda money around here Trump," Bill responds.

Ha, Germs a funny guy!

I'm into T-bone for a twenty spot when Cook comes strolling in with his poker chips and three broads I've never seen before. This is highly unusual for Cook to be tote'n the weaker sex around with him, usually he is picking through the hand-me-downs from the rest of us or just getting outright bitch slapped.

"Brought some new player's for the game tonight BOYZ!" Cook blasts out in a lower than usual voice.

I think he realizes he doesn't pull his weight around here (no pun intended) so he's gonna make sure that we all know he's play'n the big pimp daddy tonight.

T-bone takes advantage of the distraction and leans into me.

"That's cool. I wasn't expecting any action tonight."

"Yeah, I want to play the 'clothes off' kind of poker. Let's get 'em drunk."

"Hey Germ, match us on the juke box will ya? And set us up with a shot!" I yell down to Bill as I slide Cook a five.

"Here ya go fat boy, load the juke box up, and play some Hank Jr. while you're at it!"

Giving Cook orders is par for the course. He's a great guy, but he just cries out "abuse me."

"And play the girls whatever they want to hear, unless it's that bubblegum shit!" I bark at Private Cook one more time.

"LAST CALL!" Bill yells out after about two hours of verbal foreplay.

It's about one thirty in the morning and we are chomp'n at the bit to get these Missouri babes butt naked. Germs doing his best to usher some of the locals out while we are busy sneaking into the back getting the table set up. We've done this bit so many times before, but it's always more fun with some strange in the house. Bill's doing his job mix'n 'em strong, and Cook's playing his role as jester. I'm trying to be Captain cool and set this blonde up for a back seat rendezvous on some broken down leather.

That's one great thing about Jack's place, the parking lot is real dark and the neighbourhood is run down, just an old neon beer sign in the window, a grain elevator down the alley and a couple abandoned apartment buildings across the street. This all makes having sex in the back seat of your car very convenient.

This blonde chick Sarah, from Mizzou--she's the one I got my eyes on; and if I know Germ, he'll be trying to isolate her so he can regurgitate his mack all over her.

"Let's go guys, deal em up! Sarah, can I grab you another drink?" I croon in my most suave voice.

"That's fine Cap." She replies in that soft hillbilly drawl.

We on!!

SO HERE I AM schlepp'n drinks in this shit hole Jack calls a business, when Cap and T-bone walk in. They're two of my partners I grew up with and are the closest thing to family that I have. Cook's our other cohort, and I'm sure he'll be roll'n in after he finishes his shift. We spend the majority of our lives hang'n out together, dreaming up practical jokes and bitch'n about each other's bullshit.

Cap and T-bone order their usual as I listen to Cap bust T-bone's balls about who knows what. Most of the time I don't pay much attention to all of the bantering that goes on unless I hear a real good shot that's worth a laugh. All in all they're pretty good guys, but they can be worse than a couple old ladies sharing a bingo card.

Cap's probably what I would consider to be my best friend, even though the bastard feeds into all the bullshit gossip he hears from the local punchboards. I think he enjoys throwing fuel on a good rumour and then standing back and watching me try and put it out. My nickname for instance, Germ; he tells any broad with two ears and a pussy that I got it cause I have herpes, when he knows damn well that it's because of my German decent and temperament.

It all started when Kelly, one of my exes, started that rumour to try and sabotage any future relations I might have with any up and comers. She was pissed off because I wouldn't marry her. Leave it to Cap though, always thinking, he decides to use it to his advantage by making sure that every woman in the room get's a whiff of that stink so he can increase HIS odds of get'n laid. What a cock blocker! I guess sometimes riding my coattail does the trick for him, but I can promise ya, I'm always gonna bag the trophy no matter what he spews. What do you do? I guess water always seems to find its own level.

Cap likes to be the leader in our little circle jerk of life. I don't mind, so I let him think he runs the show. He seems to work awful hard at being the tallest midget, and after seven years of being a river rat out on the barges, all he has to show for it is a seasonal layoff and a stack of child support receipts. It's a real shame he and Tonya split up though. As much as I hate women, Tonya was actually pretty tolerable. Now, I'm forced to act like I care about any old bag he's bang'n at the moment. I do it for him, but if I had things my way, it's "catch this" now catch a cab! Women have ruined my life.

Now T-bone, he don't mind the breakup at all, it gives him someone to spend all of his free time with. Cap and Tommy are inseparable during winter freeze up. Problem is, Tommy would rather romance an ounce of Thai stick than spend a weekend shacked up with a house full of sorority whores. Tommy brings Cap down, but I don't think Cap see's it that way. I can't remember the last time 'T' had a girlfriend. Women are as foreign to him as spending a waking moment without a one-hitter hang'n from the hole under his nose. Sometimes I think Cap just enjoys being free from all of me and Cook's sob stories. I suppose listening to all of our mental gymnastics we get put through can get kinda old. And they say pot makes you stupid? Maybe I need a joint.

Tommy lives about as simple of an existence as you will find, other than Jack's Red Bone Hound "Kegger" who spends twenty hours a day licking his ball's, I can't think of anyone who's got it easier. T-bone's been detailing cars down at Zegmeyer Cheverolet for a couple years now. This bodes well for his nasty habit since there's little supervision in the detail department. Tommy is pretty adept at slipping in between cars or into the bathroom to romance some doobage, and then riding out the afternoon hovering over some shit box that came in on trade. After levitating to the time clock, Tommy usually meets up with Cap to go fishing or up here to cop a buzz. One thing cool about Tom though, he is happy. He's always one paycheck from poverty and two hits from reality, and that's a wonderful existence for a hapless turd like him.

As I'm setting up Cap and T-bone with another round, I notice Cook holding the door open in an unfamiliar gentlemanly fashion, and three newbie's wiggling in.

"New players, huh Cook?"

I'm definitely interested, but I can only imagine where he scraped these mud hens up at.

Cook plops his poker set on the bar as Cap tears into him about his weight. "Here ya go fat boy, load the juke box up."

"Don't call my fat friend fat!" I interject, feeling the need to pile on.

I holler out "LAST CALL" as I notice T-bone leaning into Cap. I'm sure he's either plotting against me or making some derogatory remark about the beauties Cook bounced in with. He'll make his best effort to impress any one of them, and when he gets shot down, he'll look to me or Cap to con one of them into a charity fuck.

I couldn't help but notice the nice look'n blonde as I was wiping the bar down, Sarah I guess her name is. She keeps tagging on me every time I look up. Oh well, that much is settled anyway. I guess the second place brunette ribbon will be going to Cap, and Cook might be able to con the one with the moustache into a blow job out in Cap's Caddy. All we need now is a camcorder for T-bone and everyone will be happy. Cap yells out "deal em up" so I lock the doors and we are off.

"Strip poker, right girls?"

"Yeah, I hear Missouri is the show me state." Cook chimes in, staring at Mindy's ample fun bags.

Sarah doesn't seem to have any inhibitions about taking her clothes off, and Jeneane seems to be the typical follower type, but as usual, despite all our coaxing, the big bull dike Mindy ain't about to have ANY of that.

"You know I can't do that Sarah," Mindy the moustache sheepishly oozes.

This is so typical. You would think Cook would know better by now. Oh well, probably for the best anyway, we wouldn't know where to put an acre of denim.

I have told the guys before that if you want to play strip poker, make sure all the girls you bring are hard bodies. All you gotta do is just picture them in a bikini, if it don't fit, kick 'em to the curb. It just takes one mad cow to infect the whole herd and this heifer looks like she's pissed at the world.

It doesn't take too many hands to realize I'm drag'n my usual run of shitty cards. Cap's off to another hot streak, bust'n a flush on the river and pulling three pocket pairs in a little over a half an hour. I swear that sucker cheats his ass off, no one is that damn lucky!

Watching Cap lay his schtick on these bimbo's just kills me. His flirting with this Sarah chick for instance, it makes me want to vomit! I don't think he realizes that is the worst thing that you can do. If he wants to score, he needs to play it cool and pretend not to be interested. I am dying to tell him that Sarah has been rubbing my leg under the table for about the last twenty minutes or so, but I just can't bring myself to rub it in his face with this Tonya thing still hanging over his head. Women want a challenge, and Cap just buckles under pressure. He needs to be an asshole so chicks think they can change him. You know what they say about old dogs though.

Seems to me Cap ain't been himself since the breakup. Tonya gave him the old heave-ho and pulled another ready made boyfriend magically out of thin air. I think with Spring just around the corner and him having to go back to those long days on the water. Well, you can just smell it in the air you know, it's kinda like watching Bambi when you were a kid. Ted needs to either find a different job or move out of that little two room shit hole he's renting over on Main. If he don't get out of this funk he's in, or at least find some new squeeze, I'm afraid he's gonna put a bullet in his head.

I light up a Marlboro and take a long drag as I peek at my cards. I got a couple paints and I haven't been getting shit all night.

"I'm all in boys." I announce as I push my meagre stack into the middle.

Of course, Cap calls instantly, and the flop comes with three under cards so I know I'm toast. Sarah chimes in with "you poor thing" as the river card confirms my inevitable fate.

"Sympathy is what I need baby." I sigh as she gives my shoulders a sensual rubdown. "I'm gonna go take a leak and grab a pack of smokes, be right back." I make my move.

The Southside can be a creepy place at night, you always get the feeling someone is watching you. As long as I have been staying here I still can't get used to it--hearing weird noises in the middle of the night, thinking you see somebody crouched down behind a table, hearing a voice.

It's always after closing that this place gets weird. Just hearing the creaky wooden floors echo after everyone's gone is eerie enough. Buildings this old just develop a personality of their own I guess.

Sneaking behind the bar, I heist a pack of smokes off Jack, then stumble across the dimly lit room, weaving in and out of tables and chairs with nothing but neon reflections and a vague memory to steer me into the pisser.

"It's easy to piss when you can see your breath in here!" I'm thinking as I shake my dick off. "Tight ass fuck'n Jack, too cheap to turn the heat on. No wonder I'm so God damn sick all the time!" I mumble under my breath as I walk back out the door and run smack into Sarah.

"Jesus H Christ, you scared the SHIT outta me!!"

I can barely catch my breath before she crams her tongue down my throat.

"Wow," I gasp coming up for air. "What's that all about?"

"I just think you're cute," she says to me with a little bounce. "Are you gonna hang out here or is there somewhere we can go?" Sarah continues with her veiled proposition.

"Well, I'm probably gonna stay here tonight but..." BOOM!! Before I can finish the back room door slams open and Mindy comes storming out from the poker game.

"You're taking me home NOW Sarah lets go!!" Mindy blasts in her best baritone.

"What's the matter Mindy?" I ask, feigning concern.

"Your disgusting friend Cook put his hands on me!"

"Listen Sarah, I'll take care of this. Mindy, just calm down, I'll go talk to him. Keep her here, Sarah."

I try to look concerned as I storm off with a pissed look on my face, but as soon as I melt into the darkness, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing! I run into Cap coming out of the storage room.

"What the hell is go'n on back here dude?"

"I don't frick'n know Germ. Cook's doing his 'look at me I'm Otis Campbell' routine! I gotta get him out of here!"

"Screw that fat bitch!" Cook blurts out in the background, spitting all over Jeneane.

"Alright, listen up Cap, you take T-bone and Cook home, and I'll see the girls off, I'll get 'em a damn cab if I have too."

"Sounds like a plan Germ, we need to get his fat drunken ass home." Cap confirms. "Oh, and keep your eye on him. The last time I drug him home he yacked in my back seat." I caution Cap with a nod.

"Will do, buddy!"

T-bone and Cap prop Cook up under each arm and squeeze through the door with Cook mother fuck'n Mindy the entire way. I laugh out loud as I hear them slip on the ice, and that hollow pumpkin sound from Cook's melon smack'n on the concrete squeaks through the door just as it slams shut. A few muffled swear words vibrate through the wall from out on the stoop before I hear cap's muffler blast to life.

"Well," I turn to the girls with a pause. "What's next?"

"I don't care how I get there. I just want to go home!" Mindy repeats.

"I'm sorry my friends are such assholes, girls. Cook just gets that way when he's drunk, he's really not a bad guy."

"HE'S A PIG!!" Mindy roars as if she never owned a mirror.

"Can you just drive her home Germ?" Jeneane asks.

"We've had way too much to drink and I'm scared we'll get pulled over."

Between Sarah's smile and Jeneane's big brown eye's, I just can't refuse.

"Let me grab a twelve pack for the ride ladies, I got the rust coloured four door Buick parked over in the corner. I'll be right there, just let me lock up."

"I'd just as soon see that fat bitch hitchhike!" I whisper under my breath as I glom a twelve pack out of the cooler. "Walking all the way home would be good exercise for her!" Ha, I crack myself up!

I am a little surprised to see a light snow falling as I fumble around with the keys trying to lock up. I am even more surprised to find Sarah brushing my car windows off.

"These Missouri skirts know their place," I think to myself as I stall, pretending to lose my keys so she can finish.

Mindy gives my shock's a run for their money as she tries on my backseat like an eighteenth century corset.

"Oh well, that eliminates the need for sandbags in the trunk," I nod assertively to myself, smirking once again. "Are you comfortable back there Jeneane?"

"Just cold Germ," she says with a shiver.

"It takes a while to warm up. My thermostat sticks and I just haven't had the time to replace it. So, where we headed Mindy?"

"Just stay on sixty-one south. I live just over the border in Alexandria," Mindy responds.

"You all live there?" I ask.

"Yeah," Jeneane answers, "but don't tell anyone."

It don't take long for Sarah to make her move as she slides up next to me just as I merge onto the highway.

"Well, I don't know about you two back there, but it's getting warm up here." I motion, wiping the sweat off my brow as Sarah's thigh rubs against mine in a rumble strip rhythm.

"Yeah, I'll bet!" Mindy harrumphs.

I can feel Jeneane's foot pushing up and down under my seat as I flip through the radio channels. With both girls working on me, I'm starting to get an inkling of where tonight's headed.

"Can you hand me up a beer, Jeneane?"

"Yeah, me too," Sarah adds.

Jeneane serves them up and then cracks one open for herself as Mindy passes with a snort.

"Don't you two think you've had enough to drink?"

"Don't worry yourself MOM!" Sarah shoots back in Mindy's direction.

Now's the time to fire up a fag since I know Mindy's gonna bitch. Divide and conquer!

I can see big Min's frown in my rear view mirror as I strike up.

"Do you have to smoke in here?" Mindy asks in the most perturbed voice she can muster.

"It's his car Mindy. Just be glad you got a ride!" Jeneane bitches back at her.

This is awesome. I got these two jump'n Mindy's fat ass, that'll teach her for giving Cook shit!

"Yeah Mindy, he's nice enough to give you a ride, he can smoke if he wants too, it's his car!" Sarah sides in.

Right now I'm wish'n this cigarette was one of those big nasty dog turd cigars. I start taking monster drags and blowing out the side of my mouth just to be an asshole, since I already know what Mindy is about to figure out.

"Why won't this window roll down?" Mindy exhales.

"Cook broke it," I reply, trying to extract revenge for my buddy. "He was trying to roll it down to puke when he broke it, so he just barfed right there in the seat."

"Don't tell me I'm sitting in VOMIT!" Mindy says with her lip curled up like a rhino.

"Sorry dear, I forgot to mention it, it's dried up, so it shouldn't be too bad" I respond apologetically.

"THAT'S IT, PULL OVER AND LET ME OUTTA HERE!!" Mindy roars.

"You'll just have to wait till we come to the next gas station, just relax!" I scold Mindy, trying to hold back my shit eating grin.

"Pull over NOW you jerk!" Mindy the mouth barks at me again.

Now she's starting to get on MY nerves. I'm getting real close to reaching back there and socking her in her big fricking pie hole, but just as my lip quivers, Sarah takes charge.

"Mindy, quit being a bitch, you got a free ride, you can change when you get home." Sarah responds, trying to calm Mindy down.

"Go to hell Sarah! Quit trying to tell me what to do!" Mindy lips back.

"Fuck you Mindy, you don't tell ME to go to hell!"

"OOOHHHhhhh!" I gasp, trying to lay down a subliminal challenge as I ponder how I can escalate this.

Jeneane throws her two cents in right on cue.

"Knock your shit off Mindy!"

"Is your name Sarah?" Big Min barks back.

"NOOooo?!?" Jeneane questioningly answers.

"Then mind your own business BITCH!"

Next thing I hear a smack, and Sarah and I get splashed in the back of the head with beer. It's on!!

I quickly check my rear view mirror as I try and pull over on the shoulder. Keeping my head down low, I see Jeneane has got a handful of Mindy's hair and Mindy has a fish hook set in deep. I quickly slam the car in park and bail out for the back door.

Throwing the door open, Sarah and I try and pry this ball of hair and claws out onto the gravel. Jerry Springer on wheels, whoo hooooo, this is awesome!

Sarah immediately tries to split them up, but I pull her back with every intention of refereeing this fight until I get the desired outcome. Mindy tries to swing Jeneane around by the hair, but she slips in the wet snow, allowing Jeneane to roll over on top of her. Mindy gets a nice scratch across her immense cheek for her efforts, but I can see that she is just too big for Jeneane, as she once again regains the upper hand to a chorus of screams and a rhythm of kicks.

I split them up as Mindy takes a swipe at me and misses.

"Get your slimy mitts off me scumbag!" Mindy growls.

I'm forced to intervene to be sure that Jeneane doesn't get her pretty face scarred by this sweaty sumo.

"Sarah, are you gonna stand there and let her do this to me?" Jeneane sobs uncontrollably between breaths.

"She started it Sarah, she slapped me!" Mindy heaves, gasping for air.

"YOU LYING FAT BITCH!"

With that, Jeneane springs up and charges Mindy, landing a stiff right to one of her chins that staggers her backwards into Sarah. Sarah grabs a hold of Mindy with a double hammer lock and gives her a pretty good ride for not having a saddle.

"Knock it off God damn it, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sarah screams, pinning Mindy's arms down just long enough for Jeneane to run in with a roundhouse sucker punch that bloodies Mindy's muscular lip and sends her into a lunatic rage.

Now I'M even backing away as Mindy screams like a banshee and throws Sarah to the ground with a thud. Sarah jumps back to her feet with a crazed look in her eye as Jeneane circles around behind Mindy. Now both girls are drooling for a slice of that rump roast.

I pretend to call the dogs off just as the dust flies and Mindy goes down under a hail of knuckles. Rolling into the ditch, the girls take control and overpower the mouthy one as I look on with great satisfaction. Let the beat down begin!

"This is brutal," I think to myself as I reach for a cigarette. "Someone really ought to stop this."

Hearing Mindy's muffled screams for help as she is getting her face ground into the snow is actually kind of a turn on. I let this go on until Sarah's hands get cold and Mindy receives of couple goodbye boots to the kisser for good luck.

"What do you two want to do with her?" I ask, ushering them back to the car.

"Fuck her--she said she wanted to walk home anyway, now she's got it!" Jeneane responds, wiping a trickle of blood on her sleeve.

"Man, that was frick'n awesome! You two are bad asses!!" I gasp in artificial amazement.

I take one glance back into the ditch as we get in the car, and I see Mindy flop over on her back with a whimper. As I back up and signal to pull out, I catch a glisten of blood across Mindy's face reflecting in the beam of my headlights. This prompts Sarah to roll the window down and launch one last verbal barrage for good measure.

Spinning my tires hard as I peel back onto the highway, I catch a parting shot of Mindy sitting up in my rear view mirror before she disappears in a cloud of dust. As my taillights melt away in the distance and the cold sets in, I'll bet she's thinking she should have kept her big mouth shut.

"C'mon girls, we're heading back to Jacks and get you two cleaned up."

I'M NOT SURE WHICH is louder, my muffler, or Cook's snoring rumbling up from the back seat.

"Keep your eye on him Tommy, I don't want that fat tub of shit yakking in my car," I warn Tom.

Driving on these brick paved side streets sends vibrations up through the car and right into Cook's big beer belly. Every time I hit a bump, he burps up some cud from one of his four stomachs and somehow forces it back down for further processing.

"You wanna just drive by his house and roll him out on the curb then?" Tommy asks.

"Let's shave his eyebrows off first, that'll teach him for pass'n out on us," I suggest with a snicker. I'm always look'n for any angle to cement my reputation as an asshole.

"We got any beer left back there dude?"

"Sorry Cap, all I brought was a thirst. You should have said something before we left Jacks, I would have snatched a bottle for us."

"Damn it, I may hit one up with ya yet tonight buddy," I respond with frustration as I hear Tommy's lips stretch tight across his teeth.

"YAAaaaa dude!" He grins like the Cheshire cat.

Pulling up in front of Cook's parent's place, the immediate challenge is getting him up and into the house. If it was summer out we wouldn't worry about it, we would just dump him on the lawn.

"Cook, Cook, get up man." Tommy shakes him.

"Fuck that fat bitch!" Cook slurs with one eye slit open.

"Jesus dude, look at the size of that goose egg on his noggin!" Tommy says, pointing at Cook's skull in amazement.

"Wow, he's gonna need one of them big Hoss hats to cover up that beauty," I respond with laughter.

"Yeah," Tommy laughs. "He'll need eleven gallons of hat and some Crisco to get his head in it!"

"Just get me a toilet and some aspirin little Joe," Cook whispers back, humouring us from his drunken stupor.

Tommy and I disgorge Cook from the backseat and start the long walk around to the back of his parent's house, stopping every few steps for a chorus of dry heaves. Cook's dad modified the cellar door so he could slip into his room without crashing through the house, singing and belching after a hard night at Jack's. Pretty smart really, but a little late, since he had already put his hand through the curved glass of his mom's prized china cabinet.

T-bone props the door open as I slowly back down the steps tilting Cook first one way, then the other, trying to stay out of his gastric line of fire.

"Find the switch Tommy before I get killed here!" I grimace from behind Cook's immense girth.

The bulb flickers to life and I spy Cook's super king in the corner. Tommy and I waltz him over and flop him on his full motion water mattress. The tsunami damn near stands him right back up again.

"Look out Cap, he's gonna blow!" Tommy and I duck for cover as Cook turns pale from the short boat ride and lets out a raspy gurgling sound before turning and barfing right on his pillow.

"Who hit me in the head?" Cook moans, looking up with a spittle of phlegm dangling from his chin.

"Mindy hit you in the head with a beer mug dude," I answer as Tommy tries not to bust a gut.

"What did I do?" Cook replies with the sharp tang of stomach acid on his breath.

"You whooped her ass man!" Tommy says, rubbing Cook on his contusion.

Cook slips back on his bile soaked pillow with a big confident grin and some chunks smeared across his face.

"Good night my brother," I pat Cook on his shoulder.

"Yeah, sweet dreams big guy, we'll fill ya in more tomorrow," Tommy promises as we hit the switch and echolocate for the door.

"Man Cap, why'd you let him sleep on that pillow? That was cold blooded!" Tommy snickers to me as we stagger back out front to the Caddy.

"Ha, that'll teach him for stirring up all that shit tonight! That fat fuck deserves to wake up with his pillow stuck to his head. I'd be laying into some trim right now if it weren't for him!" I rant to Tom as I point back in Cooks general direction.

"Yeah, that'll be funny. I only wish I could be here at noon to see it!"

"Just get in buddy, and fire up one of them funny fags, I need a buzz."

I turn the key and rev my five hundred cubic inches hard until I get a massive backfire that echoes like a howitzer through the neighbourhood. Spinning bald tires hard, we careen out onto the ice covered brick street, bounce off the opposite curb, and with a puff of smoke sneaking out my window from Tommy's one hitter, we start navigating toward T-Bone's grandma's house.

Not to bash on Tommy or anything, but the poor bastard ain't got a pot to piss in. He's got pot to piss ON, but that's about it. 'T' and his Grandma have a symbiotic relationship. He needs her for her house and her social security checks, and she needs him for mowing the lawn and changing her diapers.

Granny's house is just the way it looked when she was a young flapper getting banged in the rumble seat of her old man's Ford Coupe; shitty wood siding, cold wood floors, a fuel oil furnace, and a black and white TV with rabbit ears to boot. Granny just sits in front of the TV gum'n on Oreo's and watch'n Matlock. If it weren't for the occasional flatus, you would think she cashed in her last chip.

"Thanks for the ride Cap!"

"No problem dude, just gimmie one last hit on that before you go."

"I tell you what, I'll just roll you one up for the ride home, how's that sound?" Tommy says, fumbling around with the two cents left in his dime bag.

"Here, let me flip the dome light on for ya."

Tommy squints in the dim candlelight and rolls up the perfect smoke, licking her shut with chameleon like precision.

"Many thanks compadre, I'll give you a ring tomorrow noonish, deal?"

"Word bro, drive safe. I'm gonna swing back by Jack's and check on Germ, catch ya later."

My external combustion engine roars to life once more with a nitrous backfire as the neighbours clamour out of bed to see who got shot.

Winding my way back across town, the streets appear to be abandoned. I catch myself nodding off, and when I look up, the stop sign on Third Street is right on top of me.

"SHIT!" I slam on my brakes and slide out into the intersection, just missing the newspaper delivery van.

"Whew! That was close!" I exhale as I bang my head on the steering wheel. It'd be just my luck to side swipe the only other driver in town.

The burst of adrenaline from my near miss keeps me wired all the way back to Jack's place. Meanwhile, I'm sweat'n bullets to hear the skinny from Germ on what the girls said about Cook's antics.

As my car bottoms out on Jack's driveway, I notice the snow is freshly melted off of Germ's rust mobile. "He must have just got back" I think to myself as I come across three sets of footprints leading back into the building.

"Shit, I may still have a chance to knock off a piece of ass tonight," I mumble out loud as I follow the footprints and walk smack into a locked door.

"What the hell? Does he plan on getting robbed tonight or something?" I question out loud as I wiggle the doorknob in disbelief.

I give the door three hard raps with my white knuckles.

"Hurry up Germ, its cold out here." I whisper again with a shiver as my testicles duck for cover.

"I'm gonna get blue balled tonight one way or another." I reaffirm as I bang on the door once more.

On top of that, I'm starting to sober up!

My patience is wearing thin as I slip around the side of the building to take a look through the window. Only the dull lights from the beer cooler are visible through the nicotine stained glass. With no sign of Germ, I slide down to the storeroom window where he sleeps. Squinting through the torn screen and beer cases, I catch a reflection of light off of Germ's lily white ass as it thrusts up and down in his bunk.

"Good for him" I'm think'n as I try to discern which chick he's having "relations" with. That's when I notice a second head pop out from under the sheets.

All I can hear is a whoosh of air as it leaves my lungs.

"That fuck'n asshole!! Damn him, he knew I liked Sarah! You'd think he'd have enough for cry'n out loud!!"

I scoop up a beer bottle lying next to the wall and hurl it down the street as hard as I can, only to land harmlessly in a pile of snow.

"FUCK! I can't do anything right!"

I take off stomping down the street kicking every snowdrift in my path with animated zeal.

"He can go to hell, I'm walking home!" I shout aloud in my mind. I can't wait for that asshole to see my car there in the morning! What a traitor, he set me up to babysit Cook so he could get them alone. Why did I fall for it? WHY!?

Winding my way through alley's and cutting across yards, I zigzag the four miles across town towards my two room shit hole.

Why me? Why is it that some guys can have so much, and schmoes like me end up with nothing! What the hell did I do wrong? What do they see in that loser that I ain't got? Even my own conscious is pointing at me and laughing as I wipe off a frozen tear.

The street lights make a sombre backdrop for the gently falling snow. As I stop to catch my breath, I remember the joint T-bone rolled up for me. Dig'n it out of my pocket, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A possum wanders out from behind a garage and strolls leisurely across the alley towards some garbage cans.

I make a beeline in that direction, looking to take my frustrations out on the innocent marsupial. With a couple adept manoeuvres, I corner him behind some garbage cans where he tries to bluff me with a menacing hiss as I rear back to kick him. That's when I notice he has lost half his tail to frostbite. If there was ever a parallel to me in the animal kingdom, this pathetic creature would be it. Kicking him would be like kicking my own ass! I scare him off with a hiss of my own and plop down between the two trash cans and lean back against the cold pine of the light pole.

Brushing the snow out from under me, I settle in and fumble around for my lighter as I spin the joint between my lips. The flame glows until the marijuana burns cherry red.

"AHHHhhhhh" ... I release my long smooth drag and start to wonder what it would be like to live out here on the streets. Could my life possibly get any worse than this, not a soul around, and only a filthy garbage eating possum for company?

I hang there until the pot starts to smoulder and I am stoned out of my gourd. It's another mile or so for me to stagger, but at least I have a warm bed waiting for me.

Leaning on one of the cans to get up, I send it rolling out into the alley with a bang. This sends every dog on the block into a full blown intruder alert.

"SHUT UP!!" I yell at the top of my lungs as I kick a big dent in the aluminum can.

This sends a couple back-porch lights popping on in short order.

"Germ's a piece of shit! I won't forget this anytime soon!" I second myself out loud for reassurance purposes.

I still can't believe he cut me out like that--with friends like him ... yeah, WHO NEED'S HIM!!

I wander on down the alley into the darkness, leaving only my tracks and a pile of garbage to testify that I was ever even born. I really am a fucking loser!