The jukebox jammed and black dog stammered and stuttered and slammed on and on, the same second-slice of black dog became a long and nice last melancholic song.
I was crouched under the pool table stocked to the gills; I had a limp durex finger puppet that had once held my “unswallowed” pills, it was New Years Eve and I couldn’t breath, it was already eleven thirty five and I was still alive but I know this time would be the last time, this time was it, the final trip, I knew this as soon as my suicide song began to skip. Drugged and slumped in a leather jacket hug and a Blowjob sipped from a martini glass, I bet it was just whisky and water but I lacked the nerve to ask, the bartender didn’t like me, of course I knew he wouldn’t, if I was him and he was me and he walked in dressed like me I surely wouldn’t. If an old man like me, although I was only twenty three, chose to strut about like me and dress like a biker cross a lady, a man like me would never contest the shit that he gets, So there I was Scrawling a suicide note on the back of a pack of cigarettes. Sipping that bullshit blowjob in that bullshit martini glass wishing the bartender was still there so I could shove it up his ass. But no, he and the bar went to that other bar across the street, to countdown the minuets that New Years Eve, shutting up shop nipping across the street for lots more liquor and perhaps a free bite to eat. But me, I stayed, under the pool table knocked about, nautically rattled and dizzy buzzed, emotionally unstable, the celebrations weren’t about me or even for me so I chose to stay behind with a condom full of LSD. I’d already counted down; my time was up, no wife, no kids, no job, no luck and at the back end of the day, no one to give a fuck, just a blowjob and a condom full of LSD and even then I was sure my blowjob was only watered down whisky.
My suicide song Black dog was all wrong, I would listen to plant say “-alk that way-alk that way-” over and over until I finally blew myself away. That’s right, I had my father’s old 45’ under my chin, eyes closed behind orange sunglasses with the girly horned rim. The trigger pushed back against my finger so I pushed against the trigger then I realized I was hardly even pushing with my finger; didn’t I want to pull the trigger? Or was it a sign that it wasn’t my time to pull the trigger? I smiled, what ever the cause or what ever the doubt I guess I- “fuck it I’m gonna blow my fucking brains out.”
I began to squeeze then released before I fired the load into my head for right there and then the New Year began and a cheer went up from the bar across the road. And there I was, to drunk to see, all alone in the bar that was closed with a gun to my head wishing I was dead while out of my head from a condom full of LSD.
I may dress eccentric and over-speak my mind, but I’m a shy motherfucker in my own fucking time, so I looked down at that drink way down in my left hand, it was just fucking water and whisky it might as well have been fucking sand, instead of suicide that night I decided to make a stand. I was sick of being a coward, I was sick of being shy, I was sick of being trodden on and sick of being “that guy,” I was sick to death of them now not sick to death of life and I sure wasn’t gonna throw it all away that sick-to-death night. I no longer felt as yellow as custard my whole life changed, my priorities adjusted so I crossed the street and screamed at the bartender “Give me a proper blowjob you bastard!”