Skull shuffled into the kitchen. He’d just gotten out of bed, pulled on his fifteen year old pair of jeans that hadn’t been washed in almost that long; and buttoned only the top button. He neglected underwear, socks or shirt. He couldn’t be bothered with that crap. He needed something to drink and he needed it badly.
It was early afternoon. Too early, if you asked Skull, and he was surprised to see one of his biker brothers sitting at the kitchen table.
“The **** you doing up already,” Skull mumbled.
Trashman, was drinking a cup of coffee and seemed as chipper as if he’d not partied all night long, right alongside Skull and forty of their brothers. He looked up and laughed, “Talk about what the ****’ cat drugged in – man, you look worse than ****!”
“**** you, too.” Skull pulled open the refrigerator and bent over to peer inside. Finding nothing to his liking he slammed the door shut. “****! Why the **** can’t we keep a goddamn bottle of OJ in this place. The bitch just bought one yesterday. I know ‘cause I ****’ saw it in there.”
Skull opened the pantry door and found a can of lemonade mix. He popped off the plastic lid and saw that the can was about a third full. He turned and showed the can to Trashman, smiling, “Ah, see what we got here?
Trashman looked up and laughed, “All ya gotta do now is figure out to fix the ****.”
“Fix it? Oh, ****, man you just mix it with water, dontcha?”
“Damned if I know bro.”
Skull shuffled to the cabinets hung over the kitchen sink and pulled down a quart pitcher. Turning back to Trashman he said, “So – do ya think the ****’ water comes first or last?”
“**** if I know, man, read the goddamn instructions!”
“Lotta ****’ help you are – ****!” He held the pitcher under the tap and turned on the cold water. When it was three-quarters full he turned off the tap and poured the contents of the mix into the water. Searching through a drawer he found a large spoon and stirred the mixture until the powder had disappeared. Without the aid of a glass he tipped the pitcher and began drinking, much of the lemonade flowing out of the sides of his mouth to run down his neck onto his chest. He only took a couple of swallows before jerking away and screaming, “**** that ****’s sour….goddamn!” He did a little jig and his face was all scrunched up.
“It ain’t sour, **** for brains, it’s sweet,” said Trashman.
“**** you. I know the damned difference between sweet and sour ya ****’ idiot.”
“I reckon you don’t --- that mix is soooo sweet you just think it’s sour. I read about it awhile back. The taste buds on the …..”
“Shut the **** up, Trash, you don’t know jack ****. This stuff is ****’ sour, ya got it? ****’ sour as ****, man!”
“I don’t know, man. Sour, I know about but, I never tasted **** and damned sure never tasted any sour ****!” Trashman chuckled at his own joke.
Skull stared at him for a moment and took another long drink of his lemonade. His taste buds had acclimated and now he could drink it without getting the screaming shivers up and down his spine. He finished the pitcher and tossed it into the sink. If he’d have cared, he’d have been grateful that the pitcher was plastic. On the other hand, maybe he’d have tossed it anyway.
He shuffled over to stand next to Trashman and leaned over until he was face to face with him. “Never tasted ****, huh? Never tasted ****? You tellin’ me that that bitch you ate out last night was clean as a whistle? Huh? You gonna tell me that, ya lyin’ ****! I seen ya workin’ your way from pussy to **** and back, the damned place was lit up like a ****’ football stadium and I…****, man --- everyone saw it!”
Trashman jerked back from Skull, “Whooeee, man, talk about ****, you’re breath is full of it!” He chuckled and continued, “Yeah, you’re right man, that was one tasty little lady, I’ll tell ya that. OK… I take it the **** back, awright? I take it the **** back.”
Skull nodded and moved around to sit in a chair opposite Trash at the table. He pulled a pack of Marlboro’s laying on the table toward him, pulled one out and lit it up. He blew smoke across the table toward Trash.
Trash jerked back, waving his hands in front of his face. “**** man, quit blowing that **** my way, would ya? You know I can’t stand that ****!”
Skull laughed and said, “So, what are we up to tonight? Where’s the party gonna be?”
“The Ol’ Ladies wanna go out to the old Fischer place. Not sure what they’re plannin’ to do out there, but that’s what they want.”
“Since when do I give a **** what those bitches want, huh? And, what’s with this ****’ Fischer place. Ain’t nothin’ out there but a ****’ fallin’ down ranch house, a ****’ fallin down barn and that ****’ well where they pulled up those bodies a few years ago.
Now, that….that was pretty ****’ awesome, man. Pieces of bodies, I shoulda said.”
“They say that the place is haunted and you know Rachel. She loves that kind-a ****, man. She convinced your ol’ lady that’d it’d be fun. So…..”
“So you just rolled over, right? You’re a ****’ wimp, Trash. I swear, if a hot little bitch told ya to suck cock you probably would.”
“**** you, man. Actually, I think it’d be fun to check the place out. Maybe it really is haunted, man.”
Skull sneered, “Haunted, my ****. But, if you supply the beer and drive the ****’ truck I’ll go along, but not all ****’ night, ya hear? Just long enough for those simple ****’ cows to see that it ain’t haunted and then, we’re off to a real party. Agreed?”
Skull didn’t hear Rachel come into the kitchen behind him until she spoke. “Well, ain’t you the sweetest thing, Skull? Thank you, ever so much, for agreeing to humor us simple cows. Course, humoring cows is about all you can do, ain’t it? You ain’t been able to be a real bull lately, have you? Why, JJ told me just the other day….” Rachel was standing behind Skull rubbing her hands over his shaved bald head while talking. She laughed and jumped away when Skull erupted from his chair.
“What the **** are you talkin’ about? Can’t do what? Can’t get it up, is that what you’re tryin’ to ****’ say? Where the **** is J.J.? I need to have a talk with that woman!” He stormed off down the hallway towards the bedrooms.
Rachel, still chuckling, walked over and sat on Trash’s lap. “So, let’s go to the store and get the beer and ice. We can come back here and fire up the BBQ and then head out to the Fischer place around ten or so. What do you think, handsome?”
