BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 299 finish getting shitfaced. (I still don‟t know why I thought it was so much fun, but I did it a lot, so I must‟ve liked it). The Mama‟s boy wouldn‟t leave me alone, even when I was with my friends, so I finally had to explain it to him. I said, if he didn‟t leave me alone, I was gonna kick his ass right there in the bar. That was a big thing, saying that. If I did it, I‟d need to be done in only a few seconds. The bartender was a little guy named Frenchy, probably in his early 40s. He was small, maybe five-seven, one-sixty, but he was a tough little bastard, all the same. He carried a two foot billy club, or riot stick, but he really didn‟t need it, even for a guy my size. Frenchy could kick some serious ass, and wasn‟t afraid to do it if you screwed around in his bar. I guess all the beers the Mama‟s boy drank that night were loaded with false courage, because he didn‟t back away when I made my promise. It wasn‟t a threat, it was a promise. I meant it, and I sure as hell wasn‟t gonna back away from some pudgy Mama‟s boy with soft, white cheeks. I stood to whip his ass, wondering if Frenchy would banish me from the bar for a week or more, even when he learned it wasn‟t me who started it all. Then the fat boy pulled a switchblade. “I‟ll kill ya, you motherfucker!” was his advice to me. “Leave me alone or I‟ll fuckin‟ kill ya!. Hmmmm? Let‟s think about this. I tell him to leave me alone or I‟ll kick his ass. He doesn‟t believe me and keeps on pushing. So, with fair warning given, I get up to beat some sense into this prick. In response, he pulls a very deadly weapon and tells me to leave him alone. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 300 Goddamnit, isn‟t that what I was asking him to do? To leave me alone? Okay, it‟s now gone way the hell past being funny. Of course, I could‟ve pulled my own straight razor. If he didn‟t pass out from fear just seeing it, or from the expertise I used in handling it, I might even get a chance to kill this simpleton. For what? Annoying me? Like I‟m willing to go to prison for many, many years because this asshole annoyed me? I don‟t think so. However, I also wasn‟t gonna let him get away with it. Not only did I have a reputation to protect, this prick had really pissed me off by that point. I started his way and he was gonna begin talking again. Maybe he thought that‟s how the big boys do it. If so, he would always have the inalienable right of any and every good American to be as wrong and as stupid as he wanted to be. Where I come from, we don‟t talk about it. We just do it. So, I did. I raised my left hand, palm open, and got what I wanted. He looked at it. When he averted his eyes, my right hand, fully equipped with a longneck Stroh‟s, came whistling around from behind me. I crashed it against the side of the asshole‟s head and dropped him like a stone. Frenchy was looking the other way when it all took place, but spun around to take it all in. He was reaching for his riot stick as he asked what happened. I told him it was nothing. The kid‟s a little drunk and he dropped his beer, but we‟d be leaving in a minute, anyway. It was already after last call, and I had my customary four beers delivered in time. Two other guys helped me prop the shithead in a chair and we ignored him as we all finished our beer. I did take his switchblade as a souvenir. As we were going out the Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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