A night's storyMature

A story of a man, and his involvement with the mobster

A Night’s Story


 The night was cold. The air was a mixture of smoke, fog, and dust with a touch of piss, both dogs and human, that thickens into an almost solid state. The street was quiet. It LOOKS quiet. All the upper-class “gentle-man” was at home next to their beloved wife and kids, sitting next to a heater drinking wines. The street was dirty, some sticky god-know-what slime sticks to my shoe every step I walks. It smells.


 “The Pub”. The meeting place for drooling drunken looser like me to meet up and jerk off over some strippers while chugging down cups after cups of beer. Maybe some of us would try to show off and spend all his well-fare on some hookers, just to impress the rest. I sure didn’t. In fact, I’ve never had a woman all my life. Reasonable. I place my hand onto the brass door knock. The freezing cold metal sucks all of already scare heat off of my palm. Turning it, the familiar sound of the mechanism greeted me, along with the abundant smell of cigarette, alcohols and vomit. The heavy wooden door creeps open.


-         Hello, Frank.

-         Evening, Cole.


Leaning against the wall near the door was Frank, the hired muscle of this place. Standing a towering 1m9, this mountain of muscle is actually pretty decent. We knew each other enough so that he doesn’t frisk me anymore, but anything happens and he would happily smash my face in with the baseball bat lying next to him. I walked pass a regular Saturday night bar fight, toward the only empty stool next to the bar. The bartender was Carlos, a man with an impressive mustache. He came here for the American Dream, and instead now works in an underground bar in a city so corrupted it was almost deleted from the map. I sat down as the wooden stool let out its usual creek.


-         The usual?

-         The usual!

-         Anything new?

-         No, still the same. I’m broke man

-         I thought you were going to open a shop or something? *Handed me a glass of Vodka*

-         It’s not working out, mate. It needs time to turn up profit man. Time is the only that I needed

-         And the only thing you don’t have.

-         Yeah… The fucking mobs are on me, man. I can tell! They’re gonna fucking gut me I don’t give em the cash. Fuck, if only they let me have more time! *I drank the Vodka in one gulp*

-         Life is full of if, boy. And if there’s one thing I know, “if” don’t happen.

-         …

-         Cheer up, boy. Here, this one is on the house! *Handed me another glass*

-         Thanks, mate


The glass of Vodka was in my hand. I stared at it, stared at the reflection in the glass. What am I doing? I do not know. Where am I going? I do not know. Am I going to get out of this one alive? I do not know. The scar from the last time I had a little “chat” with the mobster haven’t healed. Although I should thank Gail for stitching me up for free, she did a really bad job. The thread weren’t medical thread, but sewing thread, stitched unevenly in the jagged sides of the wound. I remembered it was a serrated hunting knife, which was the reason why the edges were torn, not a clean cut. They even poured some alcohol on it, saying it “disinfect” the wound. Fuck them; it stings like some one pushed a red hot piece of metal against my face. It hurts every now and then, especially when I squinted. Looking at the reflection in the glass, I tried to fix up the stitching a bit. I sighed, thinking to my self “Everything works out, eventually”, and knocked the entire glass full of Russian alcohol into my stomach. I’ve always hated the taste of it, but it helps. I putted the glass back on the wooden surface of the bar, and reached for a pack of cigarette in my pocket. A girl sat down next to me.


-         Hey!

-         Hey…

-         You look sad.

-         You have no idea

-         Well then sad man, tell me your story!


My head screamed “Don’t” but the glass of Vodka screamed “Yes”


-         I am going to fucking die

-         Really?

-         Fuck, I borrowed some money from the mobs, tried to set up some business, you know, set up a new life. So I went ahead and did everything, buying the house, setting the sign, buying goods … But the mobs, they were impatient. They want profit, and they want it soon. If I can’t give them anything, I’m dead.

-         Well then, sad man, you want to have some fun before you go to the nest world? I’ll give you a discount, only $40/hour, baby!


She pressed her well-endowed breast against my arm. I could feel it through the thin school-girl outfit. Fucking hookers!


-         Fuck off

-         Come on honey, just $40.

-         I said FUCK OFF

-         Oh come on, don’t you wanna try it? Taste a woman for once? I’m giving you a discount here!


She pressed against me harder then before, her breast swallowing half of my arm. Fucking low-life slut. I stood up. The vodka-fueled me smashed the glass in my hand against the table, pointing the sharp end at the bitch.


-         I SAID FUCK OFF!


The last thing I saw before blacking out was a baseball bat.


When I cam about, all I know was that I was lying face down on a puddle of rainwater mixed with dog shit outside of The Pub. I barely got up, using me arm to push my head out of the water. My head felt dizzy. I tasted blood, along with something solid, in my mouth. I spitted it out, turns out it was a tooth. I picked it up and putted it in my jacket pocket. Standing up was hard with my face swelling up. I could hardly see anything, and the two glass of Vodka didn’t helped either. Time to head home, I guess.


 The street was empty, save for the few motorcycle racers around here. It was the perfect time for them. No traffic and the cop couldn’t give two shits if they kill each other over who have the best engine. One of them speeded past me, splattering water all over me. No use cussing, as by the time you turn around they will be long gone. I kept walking. The way back to my apartment felt life longer than it should be. Dragging my body along the cracked pavement, I felt like something was wrong. Something was out of place.


 Two leather gloved hand grabbed my mouth. Before I could scream “FUCK”, a bag was placed over my head and a needle inserted into my neck. Not good, gotta stay awake. No no no nonono. FUCK, not now! I felt like somebody attached anvils to two of my eyelids. I struggle just to be aware that I am being kidnapped. No good, their stuff are quality stuff. I can’t stay aw…


The bag was removed. The blinding light burned my eyes. I squinted, barely seeing anything except the silhouette of a man. I guess its due time.


-         Cole

-         Yes

-         Now Cole, you must understand that I, while being the generous man I am, have my limits. I do not give away money for free, Cole. I am a business man, and nothing fills me with joy more then seeing my investment making profit, Cole. You’ve had your time with that little shop! Now, where’s my profit?

-         I don’t have it.

-         Let me rephrase that! I want my money back, or else I will have my men hang you with your own intestines. And don’t worry, we’ll sterile our equipment, so that you don’t pass out before the show ends.

-         Please, you gotta understand! The shop, it needs time! Please, give me another week, and I promise, you’ll see your profit, Don.

-         I gave you three weeks before, boy. Now, I’ll ask one more time: Where. Is. My. Money.

-         Please, this is my only chance to set up a stable life! You and I, we both grew up on the street. You know how it was like! You know how much you and I both crave for a good life.

-         The money, Cole. Don’t get off topic!

-         Please, I beg of you! I have a sick mother at ho…


I saw Don’ hand go up, holding something metallic. Before I could make out what the hell it was, I felt a sharp pain on my right shoulder. The sound almost blew my eardrums. That fucker shot me! The bullet went through the other side, leaving behind a hole burnt with the heat from the gun powder. The pain traveled through my entire body, robbing me of the little control I had left. A millisecond later, the force from the bullet pushed me off my chair. I fall face down on the cold floor. At least it was cleaner then the street. I grabbed the wound with me left hand. Blood was oozing out. I could felt it, the warm liquid flowing across the floor touched my lips. It was salty.


-         A mother, eh. I’m feeling good today, so…

-         You gonna spare me?

-         No no no. I’m gonna give you a more humane death than the one I had in mind.


Two muscular men picked me up by my shoulders. I didn’t resist. Why bother! With a gunshot in my shoulder, the chances of me breaking free from these two body-builders are almost zero. The pain got more intense, as the adrenaline level fell. They dragged me across the floor, my legs dangling. “This is it” I thought. “This is the end, Cole. You stupid motherfucker, look at what you got yourself into! Borrowing money from the gangster? You were destined to die, and you knew it! Why the hell did you decide to? For what?” Funny question! A smirk found its way to my face. “For what, you ask? For a chance! For a chance to make a life out of myself! I’m sick and tired of that place! Always, any day, anytime, living off other people charity, eating the leftover of the rich fucks. This is not what I wanted! I want to be the man who is greeted by a loving wife when ever he comes home, a man with the rights to say: “Honey, I’m home”, a man with a future! Either that, or go back to the alleys and smuggle drugs shoved up somebody else asshole!”


The smell of dead fish and rotting garbage filled the air. I was close to the river. The pain wasn’t letting up: I was barely conscious of the fact that I am being dragged to my execution spot. The two men set me down in a kneeling position, with my back toward the river. With the little strength I had left, I opened my mouth:


-         Can you give this man one last hope?

-         Speak!

-         I’d like to have one last smoke!

-         Go ahead!


My shaking hand reached the inside of my jacket. I had a pack of cigarette left, with an old lighter. Cigarette in mouth, I lit the end of it. As I inhaled, smoke filled my lung. I putted the lighter back inside my jacket. I exhaled, warm smoke going through my nostril. One of the men was looking at his watch. “This is it” I thought “This is the end!”


 I lunge myself forward as I spitted the burning cigarette into one of their eyes. As he screamed in pain, I pulled a switch blade out of my jacket’ inner pocket, the same place I kept my lighter. I jammed the knife into the throat of the one who was checking the watch as he turned around in surprise. Blood gushed out of it, some of it got into my eye. My shoulder hurts like a bitch now, but the adrenaline pumped me couldn’t care less. I turned around, just in time for the other guy to regain his balance and grabbed me by the throat. He was strong; it felt like a tiger had grabbed me. He wrestled with me. I slipped on a wet nylon bag. Before falling into the water, I grabbed his collar, and we both went down. With a body like mine, an impact with the water surface felt life a train had hit on my back. His hand was still tight around me, like an iron prong. I grabbed his face, and plunged the knife into his eye. I could feel the skull cracking from the hit. His hands loosen, and I could breathe now. I immediately regret that, as I inhaled massive amount of water into my lung. It stings. The current pushed against me like a truck, pushing me along. I tried swimming against it with little result. My shoulder hurts like someone took an axe and chop on it repeatedly. The water washed me away. I couldn’t breathe. My vision was zero, my head felt light. I was barely conscious of my surrounding. With what little will I had left, I reached out and grabbed on to something before it all went dark. “Guess I’m dying here” I thought.

I could here the sound of water, hitting against something hard. I felt warmth on my face. The dry, sunshine-like warmth, not the hot and humid warmth. The usual smell of filth welcome itself into my nose. Slowly, I opened my eyes. It was blinding at first. Eventually, I could see the sun, along with the rare clear sky. Slowly, I regained my sense of touch, starting with my shoulder. It hurts like hell, but not as much as before. I was lying on something uneven, rough and solid. Most likely trash, based on the smell. I tried to get up, bracing myself on the shaking arms. My entire body hurts like somebody took a meat tenderizer and smashed it on every inch of my body. My head felt like ten gorillas smashing sledgehammer on it. I looked around. I don’t recognize this place. The sky is clear, the buildings are void of graffiti, and the streets are clean. I touched my shoulder to find that some one had bandaged it. The bandages were stained, but it was better then nothing. I stood up. I saw an old man sitting five meters away.


-         Oh, you’re awake!

-         Yeah, what’s left of me anyway! What happened?

-         You’re lucky son. I found you yesterday in the river. You were barely conscious, your hand grabbing a pipe. I pulled you in. You were in pretty bad shape! Bleeding shoulder, body full of bruises, a scarred face and your body stinks of alcohol. I had to bandage that hole on your shoulder, or else you would die bleeding. It is not pretty, but it would do!

-         Thanks!

-         Don’t mention it!


The man looked around fifty, his face full of weary lines, and his hair long and dirty, much like the rest of his body. He wore a tattered coat over what seemed like a hoodie he pulled from the mountain of trash beside me. His hand holding a bottle of beer. Slowly, I walked to what looked like a path out of here.


-         What’s your name?


The name “Cole” almost slipped my mouth, but then I rethink.


-         Frank. Frank Gordon

-         Well then, Frank. Where are you going?

-         Getting a life!


I kept walking, my muscle hurts with every steps.




I turned around.


-         Here, take this, as a good bye gift.


The old man threw the tattered coat, full of holes and stitches and patches. I catch it with both of my hands.


-         Thanks


I put on the coat and walked toward the entrance/exit of the dump. I stepped out into the new city, hands in my pocket and head held high.

The End

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