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Authors: Dennis Liggio
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focus instead on a future of our own making."
"Szandor advising us about letting go of the past, now I know he's drunk," said Lem with a laugh.
Dickie and I also laughed, but Szandor shot Lem a sour look. "I'm just saying, we four kings, we four horsemen, we princes of Avalon, should go out for a night and see whom... who... whom... we can impress. I say we hit a Southend bar, free from our past, and see what happens. I already know Dickie's with me, what say you two?"
"Sure," said Lem with a shrug.
"Now?" I said.
"No, not now," said Szandor. "We are a little too... inebriated for that. I also left my fake ID at home. I gotta make sure it's not peeling or anything." Szandor turned twenty-one in just days, but he had been drinking at Twin Eagles for a long time. When he had originally gotten the ID, he made a big deal of his ID to Maybell and Frank, the owner, but they had never believed it was accurate. They had known our Mom. But they just let him drink anyway. They figured if he drank here they could keep an eye on him. None of us had needed to show our ID in a long time. "Tomorrow! We go tomorrow!"
"We got that hunter audition tomorrow," I said. Meat was introducing us to the mysterious hunter of Jabberwock Jack.
"In the daytime," said Szandor. "That won't last all day. And nobody starts partying before like nine or ten. It's just the thing."
I conceded that it wasn't going to be a problem. My brother needed to get out more. And I was uncharacteristically being the spoilsport. I shouldn't be holding everyone back just because I was off on my game. "Okay, then it'll probably be fine. I'll go out with you guys."
"Then it's a date !" said Szandor. "Err, well, not a date, but an arrangement! And try to be excited about this! You can meet someone new! Someone to make you forget about whatshername!"
"I told you not to mention her," I said sourly.
"I didn't, I called her whatshername!" said Szandor proudly.
Our conversation was interrupted by a loud bar patron whose voice had been steadily rising as he argued and shouted.
"Speaking of Southend, it's come here," said Lem in a low voice.
Y'know, I hate to play into the stereotype of drunken frat boy, but holy shit, it was a drunken frat boy. He wore a gray Avalon U shirt, a baseball cap with Greek letters that meant nothing to me, cargo shorts, and an angry expression that reeked of "I'm better than you." That was reinforced by the fact he was basically saying that.
"I don't fucking come to this piss poor side of town to be treated like shit," he was saying to Maybell, leaning across the bar in a somewhat threatening manner. Maybell had her arms crossed and was unimpressed. "I come here for cheap drinks and not to hear some bullshit about ID or tabs. I don't want to hear your bullshit. I don't want any bullshit at all."
He was a few feet from me, since I was on the outside of our table. He was clearly very drunk, something I could smell, which was impressive since we were in a bar. I didn't know the situation, but I assumed he had been refused a drink because he was too drunk. I wasn't drunk, but I had a little to drink, enough to make a bad judgment. So I didn't think Maybell could handle it, even though she had probably been handling drunks since before I was born. For some reason, I decided to get involved.
"Maybe you should go back to Southend. Or wherever the fuck you are from." I had said it tersely, but not necessarily loudly.
The frat boy spun. "Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?" His fists were practically up already. It suddenly began to make some sense. He didn't come here for a drink, he came here for a fight. I turned my head and looked to see if he had any friends. I didn't see anyone who fit the bill. Lots of familiar faces and no one who looked like a student or rich kid. Strange. I could see him coming here for a fight, especially against people on the bad side of town he didn't respect. But did he really come to a bar on the other side of
"Szandor advising us about letting go of the past, now I know he's drunk," said Lem with a laugh.
Dickie and I also laughed, but Szandor shot Lem a sour look. "I'm just saying, we four kings, we four horsemen, we princes of Avalon, should go out for a night and see whom... who... whom... we can impress. I say we hit a Southend bar, free from our past, and see what happens. I already know Dickie's with me, what say you two?"
"Sure," said Lem with a shrug.
"Now?" I said.
"No, not now," said Szandor. "We are a little too... inebriated for that. I also left my fake ID at home. I gotta make sure it's not peeling or anything." Szandor turned twenty-one in just days, but he had been drinking at Twin Eagles for a long time. When he had originally gotten the ID, he made a big deal of his ID to Maybell and Frank, the owner, but they had never believed it was accurate. They had known our Mom. But they just let him drink anyway. They figured if he drank here they could keep an eye on him. None of us had needed to show our ID in a long time. "Tomorrow! We go tomorrow!"
"We got that hunter audition tomorrow," I said. Meat was introducing us to the mysterious hunter of Jabberwock Jack.
"In the daytime," said Szandor. "That won't last all day. And nobody starts partying before like nine or ten. It's just the thing."
I conceded that it wasn't going to be a problem. My brother needed to get out more. And I was uncharacteristically being the spoilsport. I shouldn't be holding everyone back just because I was off on my game. "Okay, then it'll probably be fine. I'll go out with you guys."
"Then it's a date !" said Szandor. "Err, well, not a date, but an arrangement! And try to be excited about this! You can meet someone new! Someone to make you forget about whatshername!"
"I told you not to mention her," I said sourly.
"I didn't, I called her whatshername!" said Szandor proudly.
Our conversation was interrupted by a loud bar patron whose voice had been steadily rising as he argued and shouted.
"Speaking of Southend, it's come here," said Lem in a low voice.
Y'know, I hate to play into the stereotype of drunken frat boy, but holy shit, it was a drunken frat boy. He wore a gray Avalon U shirt, a baseball cap with Greek letters that meant nothing to me, cargo shorts, and an angry expression that reeked of "I'm better than you." That was reinforced by the fact he was basically saying that.
"I don't fucking come to this piss poor side of town to be treated like shit," he was saying to Maybell, leaning across the bar in a somewhat threatening manner. Maybell had her arms crossed and was unimpressed. "I come here for cheap drinks and not to hear some bullshit about ID or tabs. I don't want to hear your bullshit. I don't want any bullshit at all."
He was a few feet from me, since I was on the outside of our table. He was clearly very drunk, something I could smell, which was impressive since we were in a bar. I didn't know the situation, but I assumed he had been refused a drink because he was too drunk. I wasn't drunk, but I had a little to drink, enough to make a bad judgment. So I didn't think Maybell could handle it, even though she had probably been handling drunks since before I was born. For some reason, I decided to get involved.
"Maybe you should go back to Southend. Or wherever the fuck you are from." I had said it tersely, but not necessarily loudly.
The frat boy spun. "Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?" His fists were practically up already. It suddenly began to make some sense. He didn't come here for a drink, he came here for a fight. I turned my head and looked to see if he had any friends. I didn't see anyone who fit the bill. Lots of familiar faces and no one who looked like a student or rich kid. Strange. I could see him coming here for a fight, especially against people on the bad side of town he didn't respect. But did he really come to a bar on the other side of
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