Poolhall Assholes

Being a professional writer isn’t easy. Especially when you’re not a great writer. I’ll admit, I think I have my moments sometime, but, this shit doesn’t just come out of nowhere, I have to think about it… a lot. And hard. Long and hard. Here’s a short story:


Charlie, Jordan, and Jimmy were tired of loitering at the coffee shop. They were planning to go to their favorite pub when Jordan interjected. “Hey, let’s go to that shithole, Louie’s, so I can eat and you guys can grab a beer.” They went to Louie’s. Jordan ordered the “Macho Chicken Nachos”, Jimmy the “Southwestern Egg rolls”, while Charlie ordered nothing. The food was as expected… not that good, but it did the job. Fuel. Jordan was nursing a hangover and desperately needed fuel, hence going to Louie’s.
The gang ate then promptly left. To Finnegan’s Fighting Goat to play some pool and reminisce. The pool tables were occupied, but the beer flowed freely. They sat at some tall tables in the back by the pool tables to wait out the old fucks shooting like sloppy drunk assholes. They… took… forever. So long, in fact, Jimmy retired for home. The trio was torn to a duo.
The tables were occupied by two different couples that seemed to know each other. At the beginning of each game one of the pool champions would break and then strike up a conversation with someone from the other table. In between inter-table conversations the couple closest to Jordan and Charlie would sneak in little kisses and long gross make-outs. Gross, indeed! Old drunken redneck smacking sounds followed by bellows of ignorant laughter and probably silent farts. They could only assume the horrible flatulent smell was exuding from these disgusting people.
After a few more grotesque minutes the couple furthest from the two gentlemen, known as Charles and Jordan, left the table for the bar. The lady passed Charlie as he politely asked “Excuse me, are you two done playing?” to which the lady responded “Yes.” with a head nod. That was their “cue”. The two grabbed some pool cues and Jordan began racking the balls. Just as the rack was set the gentleman who had left the table came back, surprised, and started accusing Charlie of stealing the table. Which, by the way, was a free table. It costs no money to play and had been abandoned. “What the hell? You’re stealing the table from us?!” Yelled the portly man to Charlie. “No, we asked the lady you with if you guys were done, and she said ‘yes’.” He replied. But, the old bugger wasn’t having it. “You’re a fucking liar!” This exchange seemed to upset the swine of a man at the other table. He quickly came to the aid of the accuser. “You can’t just fucking steal the table! You gotta play for it!” But, no matter how calmly Charlie would explain that he asked for the table and was told that it was open, they wouldn’t believe him, nor calm down. It seemed the two gentlemen were on their way to a fight with two old fat fucks with necks more red than the Devil’s dick. BUT… Charlie being the calm and collected gentleman he is, cooled the situation down and decided to give the table back. If you ask this author, the gentlemen should have taken the lower road and broke those fucking cues over their skulls. But, what do I know. I guess the moral of the story is, old people are gross. Well, most of them.