I Love People

I’m sitting in my favorite bar (honestly, any bar is my favorite bar if the drinks are under five bucks) when a guy shoves me hard on the shoulder.

“Hey mother fucker. I wanna talk to you.”

I squint over my shoulder and respond, “Do I know you?”

He goes, “Just step outside. I wanna talk to you.”

I knock back the last of my drink, slowly stand up and follow him into the back parking lot. (Taking my glasses off just in case he tried anything)

Upon exiting the fine establishment, a cross between a truck stop and an old man’s putrid ass, I light one up.

“Do I know you, buddy, or are you just gonna try and rob me?”

He swings with a hard right, catching me off guard. (Fuck, I shoulda’ seen that one coming…)

I hold my hands out, “Hey, hey man. Settle down. What the fuck are you doin’?”

He looks up at me with his beady little eyes, “You fucked my Debbie and now I’m gonna’ lay you out!”

I look at him close and say, “Bud, I didn’t fuck no one. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Fuck you! I know it’s you!”

I rub my jaw as I pick up my cigarette, “Look, Mac. I don’t know you from a hole in the wall. I don’t know who your girlfriend is. I haven’t fucked anyone named Debbie.”

He takes a minute to cool down. “Jerry?”

“No.”

That’s when I hear him sniffle. I lean down, shocked, to find the poor slob crying. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry. I thought you were…”

I wrap my arm around him. “It looks like you could use a drink, bud. You wanna’ come back inside and talk about it?”

Robbie (the guy who punched me) lets the floodgates open over a couple of J&Cs. Apparently, this broad “Debbie” was his one and only. They met when he was nineteen and stayed a couple for the seven years. She left him not two days ago and now he hears that she’s been sleeping around with a big guy who fits my description.

The guy’s a mess. He can’t eat. He can’t sleep. He wanted to get married to this woman but she broke his heart.

(I guess that’s what I get for tryin’ to get some peace and quiet at a north Hollywood “townie” bar)

I buy him another and explain to him that it’s not the end of the world. That sometimes love just doesn’t work out. The best thing for him to do is look for a support system through family and friends. Take some time off to think about things. And when he feels a little better, to try out something new like fishing or golfing. Something he’s good at that he knows he can feel like a winner as he does it.

You know… I was a regular Dr. Phil.

Anyway, we connect like a couple of buddies and I offer him a ride home. I say, “I don’t want you driving in a condition like you are now, friend.”

I drive a few blocks and he shows me where he lives . I hold him up with my shoulder as we get to his threshold.

He opens his door and turns to me, “Thanks a lot, man. I really needed a friend--.”

As he turns I deck him as hard as I can in his stupid face with a roll of quarters in my palm. He doubles over and I kick him a few times in the gut.

He whimpers as I light up another smoke and kick him one more time for good measure. “Debbie was terrible in the sack.”



I never slept with his lady, really. First time I laid eyes on the sumbitch was at that bar. Had no idea who he was going on about. Kicking the shit out of him was for sucker-punching me.

The comment about his broad was just icing on the cake…