2019-09-10 - The Drunken Monster

The lights of the city twinkled out before them in the dark night while they sat in his Father's 1980 Mercedes 450SL convertible's black leather seats. Canopy and windows down on the hot late night. The recently turned off engine ticked while it cooled, the keys still swinging from the ignition. Chet looked at her expectantly, his high school jacket open to his abdomen with his beige polo shirt underneath. Wendy studiously examined her lap, wringing her hands on her knee-length dress, nervously chewing on her bottom lip, tasting the cherry Chap Stick. She didn't know what she was thinking, agreeing to go with Chet up to make-out point. She's not that kind of girl, what's he going to think? What will everybody think?
But she forgot her nervousness when she looked up and saw Chet. His handsome smile, his dark hair, that winsome confidence. That he already had a girlfriend but he was up here with her. Little Miss Wendy "Nothing" Mullins.

"Well?" asked Chet, putting one arm over the rolled down window, the other around the back of her chair. He looked down at her with confidence, having given enough time for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the moon, the lights of the city stretched out beneath them before it hugged the largest ocean. She looked helpless, and there was a part of Chet that liked that; a big part. The same part that smiled when he was younger and shot his BB gun at neighborhood pets. Without giving her another chance, Chet slowly leaned forward, wetting his lips quickly when he looked down at hers, before his eyes closed.

Wendy's eyes opened wide as Chet began to make his move. Her first kiss, and it was going to be with Ch--

The overgrowth behind the car made a noise.

Wendy stiffened. Not just for the feeling of quarterback lips on her softer lips, but for hearing the sound. Something crashing through the brush of the embankment behind them. She put a slender hand on Chet's chest and gave a push. Gentle at first and as he groaned with frustration, more insistent while she shifted her head back, ponytail of sandy blonde hair swaying. "Chet", she glances behind, but sees only his arm, "I thought I heard something."

"Mm, yeah", Chet murmurs, sliding sideways on his seat to make up the distance she retreated, his voice husky. "You heard my heart beating just for you", he added before trying to renew the lip-lock.

And he would have been successful too, had not the crashing sound through the vegetation sound continued, under the sound of Wendy's protest, "No, Chet," pushing his chest even harder, even if it wouldn't be able to stop the athlete from taking what he would want.

"Ooof!" A gigantic dark shape fell a foot as it breached the wild growth, landing on hands and knees while another, smaller object skitters over the well-worn slender road. It picked itself up. And up, before dusting off first the left forearm and then the right. A twig is removed from long, tangled black hair and examined on unsteady legs.

Four eyes peered at the birth, looking over their shoulder, bewildered and unmoving. The teens watched while the large man, wearing all dark clothing then flicked the twig away. An action that caused it to notice the other object that fell to the ground. Stumbling the few feet to it, with a deep voice, he murmurs, "C'mere. Youuu", picking up the last two cans of beer in the plastic six pack yoke in one hand. Noticing then that he's not alone, the big man plucks one of the two last remaining beers from the yoke and uses both hands to pull the tab. The only acknowledgement to the shower of beer, properly shook from his tumble, is a narrowing of eyes aligning a suspicious gaze at the duo.

"Chet? Chet", Wendy calls, not taking her widened, frightful eyes off the pallor of the huge man. The fingers on the teen boy's chest curl before she hits his chest. "Chet!" she cries, as if to call his attention to what she's seeing.

But Chet's already witnessing it and calculating his odds. That's a big guy, but he's drunk, very drunk. But I don't have a weapon. And I'm only here with Wendy, I don't have to prove anything to her. The jock's mouth purses with all that heavy thinking. Interrupted when he saw the giant point at them and then start to stumble over. "Hey", Chet started, pulling himself up so he could leap over the driver door to make sure this wine-o moves on and heckles someone else's make-out.

At least that was the idea. A big hand entangled with the can holder grabs Chet by the shoulder and pushes him back down into the chair. "No, no, nu. Man", rumbles the deep voice while the owner pulls up to the driver side door. Green eyes examine Wendy for a moment and then nods, "You're cute." He looks down at Chet, the hand moving from the frozen footballer to look at the name printed on the jacket. "What's your name? Chad?" He looks up to Wendy, perplexed.

"Chet," interrupts Chet, without looking up. He dares a glance towards the side, his date still unmoving, staring up, scared witless.

"You left me for a Chad?" asks the big man, looking down at the teen girl. Suddenly turning his head to the left, he shouts to no one, "Shut up!" He pauses, "I know!" Wendy lets out a whimper, which causes the thug to turn his attention back towards her. "You two look like you're in love", he says after a second, and then pats Chet several times, hard enough to cause the boy to wince. "You in love?" he asks.

Wendy finally moves, she turns her attention to Chet, looking fearful but also hopeful, clutching her hands to her chest protectively. Chet takes his eyes off Wendy, and looks up. "Yeah. Yeah, we're super in love", he says, hoping that's the answer that's going to keep them from ending up being another body featured in the newspaper. She couldn't help herself, softening a little at Chet's answer even though she knows why he's saying it, hearing him saying it is something else.

"Yeah, I thought it was love too", replies the gorilla, darkly, soberly, looking at Wendy again. "You did all the right things; you said all the right stuff. You said you don't know what it is. Is." Suddenly he pouts. "I'm sorry", he slurs before taking a long draught from his open can, head tilted back. And while he drinks, Wendy breaks her catatonic state, smacking Chet in his right arm, then points at the dangling keys when she has his attention.

Lowering his head again, a long belch precedes an "Ah." The can is crushed without effort, then thrown over his shoulder before Chet can do anything but put his hand on the keys. Green eyes fall on Wendy again, and weaken. "Aw, baby." He dryly sniffs once before he murmurs, "Let me give you a squeeze." And with that, turns to follow the body of the convertible around the back.

"NOW, ASSHOLE!" shouts Wendy, pushing Chet's arm who frowns deeply at that new nickname. But he turns the key and gives the engine gas. It roars to life, and once the keys were turned, illuminates a surprised Everett in red operational lights, soon followed by white lights when Chet throws the vehicle into reverse and backs-up without caution.
A heavy thud is felt.
Wendy screams again.
Everett holds on to the trunk of the automobile while it drags him back a dozen feet.
Chet puts the car into drive and guns the engine, braking swiftly after when the already narrow road takes a slight turn.

Lifting his head, Everett watches the red lights get smaller sadly. "No", he says softly, reaching out with his now empty right hand. He mutters two words before feeling the already dark night turn even darker, his vision closing, ribs tender.

"Don't go."