by Bradford Middleton
Jack was sitting in the pub in the same seat he always occupied. It had just been another typical day, starting in the morning hung-over and having to endure the idiots he worked with and their banal existences. Work was hard but it paid enough for Jack to keep a roof over his head and enough money to get blasted every night. It was a life he had not seen coming but now he was actually living it he didn’t care any more, he just needed the drink every night.
Every day he would arrive shortly after his shift would end and order a double whisky with a pint of beer to help it down. He would always follow the same pattern. It would soon be followed by another beer and the possibility of snacking on some of the food they kept at the bar during the afternoons for those poor bastards who couldn’t afford to eat, just drink. The afternoon slowly turned into the evening and the crowd were starting to get rowdier and the drink was appearing to go down easier than usual. Some days it was a case of just eight or nine random older guys sat at the bar nursing their beers until the hour passed before they could buy another one but this day seemed different. The crowd still had the same regular faces but there were new people, which made Jack excited but also somewhat tetchy and nervous. He was on his fifth beer and had just had his third double when he felt the impenetrable stare from across the bar. His eyes looked up, away from the beer he was contemplating, and were directed by the stare of a man towards this person. Jack was unsure of how to react. Was this another instance of his attracting a gay man? He’d never had any problems explaining them away, he was devoutly heterosexual and explained this to them. This guy seemed different though, there was no glint in his eye, just one of bewilderment. He stood there holding a pint, swaying aimlessly, and seemed intrigued by the presence of Jack. Seconds later he started moving in Jack’s direction.
“Oh shit,” Jack thought, “here we go, another crazy… just what I need!”
“Hey!” Jack ignored this plea, drinking some of his beer. “Hey mister, you got a spare dick?”
“Did he just say what I thought he said” Jack thought, “…great he’s a real crazy! Maybe I should have stayed home and smelt the shit from my neighbour’s toilet for once”
“Mister, did you hear me?”
“Look, what the fuck is it you want from me?” Jack said, confused but also angry that his night was being disturbed.
“I asked if you had a spare dick? They’re all the rage downtown these days and you look like a hip old guy so wanted to know.”
“Are you for real, a spare dick?”
“Yeah, some even have them attached right above their original dicks, it looks amazing.”
“Look, just fuck off or I’ll have your dick as my spare dick!”
“Is that some kind of threat mate?”
“You bet it is… now fuck off.” The guy moved away – only to the other side of the bar – but at least it gave Jack the chance to get back to his beer.
About an hour passed before Jack realised he had imbibed so much beer he needed to use the toilet. As he got up from his stall he turned to walk towards the toilet.
“Shit, that muppet’s sitting by the damn toilet.”
After taking a piss he turned round to find the same guy staring at him.
“Look, what now you little shit?”
“I just wanted to check.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t have one and if I did it would be your original you little shit now just fuck off!”
“That’s it!” Jack pulled out a knife he always carried around with him for protection. In his general state and living in the neighbourhood he did it was common sense, he didn’t have any family or even any real friends so if he did accidentally harm someone then they probably deserved it. That was until now. He grabbed the guy round the neck and dragged him off to the cubicle. He pulled down the man’s trousers and boxers and proceeded to cut through the base of the cock.
“I warned you, I fucking warned you man but you just wouldn’t shut up. Now, how you like that? Does it look good on me?”
With that Jack got up and walked out the toilet. The guy was in a bad way but would be okay if he got to a hospital in plenty of time. That night Jack went downtown and fucked a girl with another man’s dick. It felt weird but the girl was so hot it didn’t matter when he fucked her with his own dick, not his spare one.
Bradford Middleton is a 39-year old writer who currently lives in Brighton after being somewhat transient in the last few years. He has been writing poetry for many years, in fact he won a school poetry competition when he was only ten years old. It’s fair to say that since then his style has developed uniqueness all of his own and now encompasses short stories and novellas too. He has so far been published online at the Mad Swirl’s poetry forum and is soon to appear in Deuce Coupe website and Contrary magazine.