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

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 90
Little did I dare imagine how much I‟d add to that experience, or how soon the
addition would begin. I had a lot of years of drinking in my future to get out of the way,
as it developed.
With Bobby faking it like that, I guzzled a quart of high octane booze. Now well
beyond shitfaced, I staggered along with Bobby, who also pretended to be as drunk as I
was, the two miles left to get to Otto. The dance was pretty much over when we got
there, which was actually a good thing. If I‟d gone in and danced with anyone, I think
the first set of circles, fast dance or slow, would‟ve put me on my knees losing my lunch.
I was reeling around, wearing a new black nylon ski jacket, when I heard someone holler
my name.
“Cady, you motherfucker, your ass is mine!”
Okay, I had an objection to that, whoever said it. It was my ass, and I wasn‟t done
using it yet, so I was hostile right away. Somehow, I even managed to get turned around,
which was rather courteous of me. That put my chin right out there for Bob Haywood to
whack it. He didn‟t have to move to the side to knock me on my ass.
I always try to do right by the other guy. The old, “Do unto others …” story, ya
know? Of course, when Bob smashed his fist into my chin, it didn‟t hurt me even a bit.
Hell, they could‟ve taken my tonsils out with no damned ether at that point. I was truly
feeling no pain.
However, shitfaced or not, I take exception to people crashing a hard punch into
my jaw. After all, it‟s the only one I have, and I use it pretty much every day.
I knew he was a hothead, but figured even Bob Haywood would need a good
reason to hit me. Something more than just the fact I was at least twice as good looking
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