Jade and Carrot
A Love Story
By Ricky Lewis
Though he was not the most attractive man in the bar, he withheld a certain charisma. His cadence was one of unusual character. His thick Australian accent was wrought with harshness, and to balance out, a certain tinge of charm. The night to him was aged and drawing to a close. His mind became tired, and he had to repay the loan he took out on his body with what he anticipated to be an entire day and night of sleeping. He reeked of alcohol, and his face would periodically break out into unusual sweating fits, not unlike one would experience after a healthy jog on a hot day. Instead, this sickly sweat was to be attributed to the various drugs he had ingested throughout his day. Soon, he would be able to say that he had been awake for 33 hours. A shame? No. He was proud of this fact, so much so that he would say it to anyone who came near him in the bar. And he picked a good time to drop by the ‘Old pub’ as he called it. Tonight the bar seemed to be teeming with teenage girls for him to pick from. His hopped up demeanor and drunken stench though seemed to be a big enough deterrent to the innocent ladies who would make the mistake of crossing paths with this man.
He was a average sized man. 6’1, around 180 pounds. He had dark hair that came down to his chin and wore a pair of torn up jeans. He had an unbuttoned black dress shirt and underneath, a ratty old illegible band t-shirt.
Thankfully, two of his good friends found their way into the bar, noticing his hunched back over the barstool, weaving forward and backward. One of the friends sighed a sigh of relief and walked up to him and pulled up a stool. This stunned the drunk man, who jolted to the side and gasped. He then realized who it was and calmed down.
“Well, well, look who it is. The runner. Fancy seeing you here.” The first friend said, patting the Australian’s back. He was a slender man with a white t-shirt and jeans, shaggy black hair and skate shoes on. He smiled and waved over the bartender. The other friend was a bit taller than the first, short blondish hair and blue eyes. He had on a black tank top and a pair of ripped up shorts.
“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” He laughed, taking a sip from his enormous mug of Guinness.
“The fuck it is man. We’ve been spending the last two and a half hours searching for your trashed ass. You don’t remember?” He said sternly as the bartender placed a bottle of beer in front of him.
“Look, you can’t be going out and doing that kind of shit man. Especially on those pills we gave you. If you get busted, I sure as hell am not bailing you out, and I don’t think Barret will either” Said the blonde haired friend, who took the beer and began swigging it.
“Nah I’d be…fine.” The drunk stammered.
“Damn it Jake, you’re on ecstasy and you’re drunk off your ass. Dude we cannot have you running out and raping some girl. And of all the places to come and tempt yourself with it, you come here, on this night. Damn dude, you’re asking for trouble. We have to stick together.”
“I will be fine Barret. You and Eli found me just fine. Now everything is good, we can now relax and…watch ass.” Jake said, smiling. He turned his attention in the middle of Barret’s rant away from Barret and towards a large group of preppy girls at a round table at the other end of the bar. He had his eye on a few of them that carried significant dumpers. All of them would qualify for his bedroom tomfoolery, but that’s not saying much, considering he was known around his close friends as the guy who emptied out a banana peel, wrapped it up with silver duct tape, lightly poured warm water in it and then proceeded to take part in coitus with it. As you can tell, this man was made of couth and decency. It was a good thing that the friends he shared this glorious tale with had the decorum to keep it under their hats. Though he had faith in their silence, he also knew various things about them; who knew about his devious undertakings. Barret once acquired a prostitute to provide him with fellatio, and much to his chagrin, he came to the conclusion that he had made a grievous error in judgment, driven to the wrong side of town and acquired a transgendered gentleman instead of a ‘lady’ of the evening. He told Jake and Eli this in faith, and it would remain a secret among them. Eli on the other hand, took some time to pry for an embarrassing story, but by god, Jake came within inches of beating it out of him. He eventually spilled his guts. He recalled the time that he engaged a woman online to strip for him so that he may get himself off. Little did he know that it was a relative of his…an older one. Of 57 years. This would not be as embarrassing if he had managed to figure out this horrible face before he finished his strenuous forearm exercises. But this is too much digression.
This evening, Jake had vowed to acquire a female. So much so that it haunted every free though. Which was a lot. He was not known for his thinking capacity. He had planned to woo some unsuspecting girl, and take her back to what he thinks is his apartment and engage her in about three minutes of mindless chatter before the sexual floodgate inevitably failed and his animal instincts hijacked his mind, and a pending rape charge would soon be born. Luckily, he had two extremely tolerant friends who often times helped him out of such jams. Jake was known to get wildly drunk, to a point of absolute belligerence. This was more common than sobriety. Eli and Barret had multiple one-on-one talks with each other as well as with Jake concerning this growing issue. How many gutter rescues had they been deployed to? Twice pulled from jail and once he tried to engage what he assumed were two adults in a game of ‘whales tails’ when in fact, not only were they minorities, they were on a playground. Not a pedophile, more like a very unlucky idiot.
This particular evening, Jake was determined. His drunken swagger was one to be laughed at, but even amongst the laughter and jeering at his idiocy, there was an immense charm that only a foreign alcoholic could execute. This night would be such an example. After being chastised for his ‘bailing’, all three of the men (who were all in some form or another, strung out), sat at the bar and enjoyed a beer themselves, whilst recalling their rather enjoyable night. Of course, until realizing Jake had gone missing. The panic was further escalated when they were on top of a building when they had this revelation. A few minutes of investigation ruled out a ‘jumping scenario’ and it was just a matter of scouring local bars. Now reunited, the group could breathe a little easier. Both Eli and Barret turned in their stools when Jake stoop up, weaved a little, and swerved his way to a table full of young women, ages ranging from 21-30. Though he was a drunkard, he was sharp witted and could be a brutal talker. These ladies were not going to enjoy the oncoming discussion in any fashion. At least, Eli and Barret did not expect them to. His opening line was sincere and showed nothing but the utmost respect to females.
“Which one of you birds puts out?” Classy, right? Topping off his brutish ice breaker, he proceeds to point at the chest of one of the appalled women, smirk and say “I bet you do.” Barret cackled like a hyena at the front of the bar. Eli just shook his head and smirked as he slammed the rest of his beer and motioned for the bartender to pour another. Barret’s back was to the bar, watching carefully, the idiocy of his friend, spiraling into a metaphorical flaming ditch, filled with female debris. If ladies give him a hard time, then he takes them all down with him. A true gentleman.
Jake whipped a chair around from another table and sat backwards in it. Smoother than any motion he’s attempted the entire night, he begins to talk to these unfortunate ladies. His thick accent carries to the front of the bar, where Barret and Eli begin to enjoy the impending spectacle.
“Girls, I’ve had a rough night. I’ve been strung out for…an inordinate amount of hours, but that’s me. I’m looking to fall in love tonight. Maybe back out of it, if the situation calls for such a turn of events.” He begins. The girls, astounded, laugh and shake their heads as some return to their drinks.
“Goodness me! Where are my manners?” He started again. His body decided at that moment, the most pertinent body function would be a loud belch. Without slowing down his pace, he dives right into the conversation once again.
“My name is Jake. I’m sure you could tell by now that I am not from this country. What are your names?” He asked, his hands spread, inviting all of the girls to chime in. His smile was no longer that of a drunkard’s grin, but a devious mastermind’s smile. From 100% blood alcohol to total sobriety in seconds, he truly was a master of the craft. A series of names came towards him, disingenuous handshakes and smiles exchanged, except for one. A quiet girl in the middle.
“I’m sorry, love, I missed your name…” He said to her with his arm extended. She looked up at him with a wry grin and reached out to shake his hand.
“Micha.” She said simply. Jake held onto her hand and knelt in for a gentle kiss. The ladies cooed like hens, some laughing and some jeering her with elbow nudges.
“I imagined I would meet someone with a name as beautiful as Micha. I never imagined she would be as beautiful as you.” He said, releasing her hand and revving up the old Australian charm. It hit her like a train, and her face turned flush, her mouth agape with a gasp. Her cronies were similarly laughing and smiling. Her head bowed down, a finger in her grinning mouth, pleasantly embarrassed.
“Wow I actually think he’s getting somewhere with them, dude.” Eli said to Barret. Barret laughed, knowing what it was all about.
“It’s the accent, man. Girls love that shit.” He explained. “If it was the same person, but with our accent, he’d be repeatedly in jail. There’s no other explanation. We’re talking about a guy whose opening line is ‘Which one of you birds puts out’.”
“True…” Eli said, turning back to look at the televisions over the bar.
Back with Jake, the ladies were enamored with his charm, and his excessively dirty, yet mysteriously humorous tales. Jake had won all of them over, but had his eye set on Micha, the shy, quiet girl. He had grown attached to her quiet demeanor. Her laugh was reserved and polite. Her hair was a chocolate brown, matching her equally exquisite eyes. Her hands were gentle and small, as was the rest of her body. She was a rather petite woman. He began to grow frustrated with her introversion.
“My love, you’ve been awfully quiet during our discussion. Is there something the matter?” he asked gently, easing her into a discussion.“Uhm, no…” She opened gently. Her voice was crystalline and fragile, like the echo of a faint angel eons away. He could barely hear her over the ambient noise of the bar.
“Then tell me dear, why are you so quiet?” He continued. This was not one of his usual ‘blunt-spade-shovel-to-the-back-of-the-head’ approaches that he was known for. He expressed genuine interest and perhaps a slight tinge of concern towards her shyness.
“I’m just not a talkative person. I’m sorry.” She said, making eye contact. Her eyes so deep and sharp, it stopped him for a moment, but Jake was not one to be distracted and disengaged to easily. He replied.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself, dear.” He asked of her. She hesitated. Her eyes signaled that she was having trouble conjuring words to say. This did not deter him, so he offered her a concession. He leaned forward putting his head farther under the light. His thick black hair and gruff stubble were starkly illuminated, accentuating his facial expressions as he spoke.
“We shall trade? I will tell you an embarrassing story about myself in exchange for some information about yourself; perhaps I can break this ice?” He said, smirking. It was impossible for her to deny this suave idiot. She nodded meekly. This got Jake worked up, and he leaned back in his chair. Out of nowhere, he revealed a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. One of the women next to him put their hand on top of his.
“Uh, I don’t think you can sm-“. Her warning was swiftly ignored with a raised hand to her face. His determination to extract information from the woman meant that he could not even turn to acknowledge her valid notice. He took a long drag and proceeded to spin a yarn, in a manner only a drugged out foreign alcoholic could. Perfectly.
“So I hooked up with this lady one evening, she was particularly feisty with her index and middle finger…”
Back at the bar, Barret was becoming more and more intoxicated. From what he remembered, it was his fifth beer since arriving. He had not stopped since he walked in the door. Thankfully, since they were all together, he was allowed to relax. Eli was getting there, but not nearly as inebriated. He was taking interest in Jake’s endeavor. Watching from afar, barely picking up bits and pieces of the conversation.
“…and the next morning, I look down in the toilet bowl and there’s a bright pink press on nail in my turd!” Jake said, drawing his story to a close. The women were in a suspended state of absolute mortification and hysteria. His hands extended outwards, motioning an unspoken “ta-da” to make his story officially over. With that motion, the women burst out laughing at the ridiculous story, almost in awe that a person of Jake’s caliber was sitting right in front of them. Or perhaps someone of that crass nature could even exist. Horrific details of anal manipulation aside, he had fulfilled his end of the bargain, and leaned forward with a smile on his face, eagerly anticipating the information he had so…eloquently…worked for.
To be continued…
A little somethin’.