It’s coming to an end.
It’s obvious.
Clubs are shitier and shitier.
Burnt one too many bridges.
Thought his condition was an asset.
Extra Testosterone.
Makes him hyper aggressive.
Always enjoyed a good fight.
Overhears a bit of conversation.
“Ma he’s good. I’ve heard of him. His hands are the stuff of legend. He tears clubs to the ground. We’ll be okay.”
God Damnit.
It’s one of Those places.
OG knows he’s working on a broken foot.
Must be angry with him.
A bunch of bull.
Plus the chairs are uncomfortable.
Sits to tie up his boots
Grunts loudly as his swollen foot resists being confined.
Didn’t want to fight tonight.
Shit.
Just had to squabble last night.
Foot’s throbbing.
Flexes his toes.
Lights go off.
Pool tables are closed.
Strippers head to the dressing room.
Takes a look at the picture of “His Truck.” The 2013 Escalade with 120k is the motivation.
Why he is working so much.
Supposed to be his birthday gift to himself.
Needs a vehicle.
Wants that one.
He’s had one $1800 car after another.
Some of them have been spectacular.
For $1800 cars.
$7,985.00 He’s worth it.
He’s more than put in the work.
Been “Faithful over a little.” Scripture is all he remembers from church, but he holds on to it for all it’s worth.
Needs his “Much*” soon.
Faith keeps him going.
Not only to the increasingly decrepit night Clubs, but also to his Warehouse job.
Wants to abandon both.
Draw comics.
Look at Mountains.
Create new adventures for his characters.
Maybe be able to see both a mountain and a large body of water?
Even in his wishes and fantasies he’s conservative, a microscopic amount of success, a vehicle he’s not afraid will break down on him, enough food to eat, these are his dreams.
All night long he waits for something to kick off.
When the lights come on at 4:00 a.m. a wave of relief washes over him.
Survived another night.
Received a little more money.
80 more nights like this one, and a few more OT hours at his primary job he just might be able to pull it off.
*Matthew 25:12
