Outside

Outside it's dark. Of course there is a cold mist of rain. Your friend said this bar was a great way to meet someone new. Sure, “If that was what I was looking for.”
You start to look up to see where you parked but instead you see stars.
Your nose is on fire and you reel back.
SOAB!
FUCK!

You can feel the cold bricks of an old building against the side of your face.
You feel like an old fool.
And this proves it.


Hands first then your knees.
You look up.

Some punk is going through your wallet.
You grin through the blood in your teeth and you try not to laugh.
Getting up hurts a little more these days but it's worth it.
You stand and take your pose.
“Hey!” You shout.

The young punk turns to look but will never remember.
Everything flies.

This would never have gone this way back when.
Got to be more careful. You want to kick his ribs but what good would that do.
If I wasn't a father it would be so much easier.
I go through his things but he doesn't have a dollar to his name. I take the few dollars from my wallet and throw them on his back.
I tried to save someone like him once.
It was sucked out of me though.
My hands go for my keys and I head for my car.

The rain gets thicker.
Eyes lift and the rain cleanses the soul.
A wish is granted and the rain gets heavier.
Perhaps enough to wash the trash into a sewer.

I make my way to my car. Drawing my keys I press to unlock and start it.
In the rain I lay my left hand on top of the car and with my right I wipe more blood from my mouth.
It was then I hear the noise gravel makes when walked on. I quickly turn with my fist ready and see the gal I earlier named Sugar Tits.
She drew back and her eyes went wide and her hands went up. “Sorry dude, I just wanted to see if you were OK.”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” I say.
I lean back on my car.
She comes closer. Much closer.
My legs are wide to support my sore back.
She is now between them.
“Why?” Is all I can say.
Her right hand comes close and her fingers are behind my ear and then she brings my head to hers. Her lips are of fire. I can feel her skull pressed to mine.
She says something about she knows I'm a something or other.
All I can see though is the rain dancing on her face. Time slows.
She has the lips of Helen. The eyes of Cleopatra.
A waist that is tight and of a shedevil.

Those Hellenic lips press fiercely against mine as the rain steadies its pace, refreshingly wet as it runs down our faces.

Allowing a moment to catch our breath, I find her batting long lashes, and I'm unable to take my gaze from her wondrous eyes, which even in the dark cannot be mistaken as anything but deep cerulean.

It is then that her lips part, forming into a smile Ms. Hepburn would envy, and I realize it may be too late to stop this siren from possessing what remains of my soul.

Her hand is quick and sure as she first parts then slides it in my coat. Her eyes look up at mine and it's then she knows she's fucked up. Rule #9, "Never go anywhere without a knife."

Her weight is full in my arms and her eyes try to focus on mine as she drops her blade. Her head slightly shakes as she asks "How"?
I wipe my knife and look around.

It's now that I want a drink. No, several.
I open the door and the 389 Tripower roars to life. The 65 GTO is small but powerful and suits my needs.

Part 6? I've lost count of the episodes in other regions.
Perhaps cause the ship docked late last night.

This one is community and lives on it's own. Shhhh.
But continue sir.

Ha, and stop the sir crap.
You know I play whatever hand is dealt.
I saw an AH-64 on its tail last week.

Tell me I want to hear.
Did you see the vid of a Black hawk that landed in a mine field? Probably on internet by now.
I would like to say or tell about so many times I should have been killed but came through because of skill, luck or the very grace of God. Also I am very impressed with the skill of designers, builders of yesterday and today.
I believe the stories I could tell of a fearless young buck in the private life would just be just as insane as the unprivate life.

The back of my right hand wipes the blood and sweat from my eyes. My left hand does a death grip on the wheel. At the same time my right goes for second gear. Then "What the hell no one is following" straight to forth on the next shift. Nothing fancy back in those days but by God these cars had life. And unfortunately none too inconspicuous. I stand out like candy. Even at night.