Big Bad [sample]
Wolf pulled into the parking bay opposite the “Big Bad” he’d tagged on The Dive’s brown-brick walls twenty-three years earlier. Dragging himself from his iridium 1978 Corolla, he inhaled the town’s dank aroma, flooding his body with nostalgic sensations. The excitement of sipping his first beer at age twelve surged through his body, its bitterness rousing his taste buds. Wolf recalled modelling his look on the seller’s shaggy hair, denim jacket, and torn jeans years later, and winced. Crossing the litter-strewn path, the satisfaction he’d felt lying in the rubble after drunkenly demolishing the industry pigs’ commercial housing set his heart racing.
Wolf cringed. He’d spent two decades trying to escape his past, but Joe, his Alcoholic Anonymous sponsor, had insisted he confront it and make amends. Taking a deep breath, he heaved open the pub’s heavy glass doors.
Stepping inside was like entering a time capsule. Dusty footy trophies and honour boards lined the mud-coloured walls, the same musty red carpet still felt sticky underfoot, and the bar’s lacquered surface retained most of its sheen.
Hell, thought Wolf scanning the room, even the patrons look the same.
‘Sunufa bitch!’ a familiar voice shouted across the room. Bruno, Wolf’s old drinking buddy, lumbered through the cigarette-smoke. ‘Big Bad’s back!’ he declared to the bar’s patrons. No one looked up from their drinks. Bruno’s face was haggard and his once thick black hair was receding, but he still clad his stick-like figure in the same daggy jeans and black t-shirt. He embraced Wolf.
Wolf patted Bruno on the back. ‘It’s just Wolf now.’
Bruno staggered backwards. ‘Let me shout ya a Bundy an’ coke.’ Bruno led Wolf towards the bar.
‘Water’s fine.’
Bruno chuckled and waved the bartender over. ‘Seriously, what’ll ya have?’
‘I don’t drink anymore.’
‘Fer real?’
Wolf nodded.
‘Far out, man.’ Bruno ordered water for Wolf and a VB for himself despite holding half a middie. They sat on the same pockmarked bar stools they’d claimed decades earlier. Wolf sipped his water.
Bruno sculled his remaining glass. ‘Rememba knockin’ down those pigs’ houses?’
‘Those days are behind me.’
‘Farck! Big Bad’s gone soft.’
‘You’re not a fuckin’ teenager anymore, Bruno.’
‘’Stha only way ta live, man.’ Bruno chugged his fresh beer. ‘’Sides, I only have tha odd sip.’
‘Are you still spinning that bullshit? That’s the sort of shit we’d feed our folks after polishing off a slab and a few bottles of Bundy.’
‘Those were tha days.’
‘How can you say that? You had double the amount of alcohol that killed John Bonham in your system.’
A smile crept across Bruno’s lips. This had been a point of pride in their youth. It seemed it still was. ‘Lay off. I was a bloody legend.’ He guzzled his middie and slammed it onto the bar. ‘Why dredge up all ‘a this shit?’
‘Because it won’t leave me alone. And… I need to make amends. Surely you can understand that after what you put Midge through.’
Bruno shrugged. ‘Don’t rememba much ’bout dat.’
‘We did some terrible things.’
Bruno wiped froth from his mouth and waved his empty glass at the bartender. As the barman filled a new glass, Bruno said, ‘’Spose ya wanna see Midge.’
Wolf nodded. Of all the people he needed to make amends with, she mattered most.
‘Ya know ’bout tha boy?’ Bruno’s tone soured.
Wolf shook his head.
Bruno peered into his glass and grimaced. ‘Best speak ta Midge ’bout dat.’
Wolf stared at him. Whatever it was, Bruno didn’t want to say. He stood and clapped Bruno’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be off.’
Bruno clumsily dismounted his stool.
Wolf stopped him. ‘Take it easy, man. You’re not sixteen anymore.’
‘Farck off, ya pussy.’
* * *
© A. R. Levett 2015
Contact me to preorder a digital version of Retold: Old Tales, New Voices for $5, which contains the full version of Big Bad as well as nine other modern retellings of fairy tales.
Wolf cringed. He’d spent two decades trying to escape his past, but Joe, his Alcoholic Anonymous sponsor, had insisted he confront it and make amends. Taking a deep breath, he heaved open the pub’s heavy glass doors.
Stepping inside was like entering a time capsule. Dusty footy trophies and honour boards lined the mud-coloured walls, the same musty red carpet still felt sticky underfoot, and the bar’s lacquered surface retained most of its sheen.
Hell, thought Wolf scanning the room, even the patrons look the same.
‘Sunufa bitch!’ a familiar voice shouted across the room. Bruno, Wolf’s old drinking buddy, lumbered through the cigarette-smoke. ‘Big Bad’s back!’ he declared to the bar’s patrons. No one looked up from their drinks. Bruno’s face was haggard and his once thick black hair was receding, but he still clad his stick-like figure in the same daggy jeans and black t-shirt. He embraced Wolf.
Wolf patted Bruno on the back. ‘It’s just Wolf now.’
Bruno staggered backwards. ‘Let me shout ya a Bundy an’ coke.’ Bruno led Wolf towards the bar.
‘Water’s fine.’
Bruno chuckled and waved the bartender over. ‘Seriously, what’ll ya have?’
‘I don’t drink anymore.’
‘Fer real?’
Wolf nodded.
‘Far out, man.’ Bruno ordered water for Wolf and a VB for himself despite holding half a middie. They sat on the same pockmarked bar stools they’d claimed decades earlier. Wolf sipped his water.
Bruno sculled his remaining glass. ‘Rememba knockin’ down those pigs’ houses?’
‘Those days are behind me.’
‘Farck! Big Bad’s gone soft.’
‘You’re not a fuckin’ teenager anymore, Bruno.’
‘’Stha only way ta live, man.’ Bruno chugged his fresh beer. ‘’Sides, I only have tha odd sip.’
‘Are you still spinning that bullshit? That’s the sort of shit we’d feed our folks after polishing off a slab and a few bottles of Bundy.’
‘Those were tha days.’
‘How can you say that? You had double the amount of alcohol that killed John Bonham in your system.’
A smile crept across Bruno’s lips. This had been a point of pride in their youth. It seemed it still was. ‘Lay off. I was a bloody legend.’ He guzzled his middie and slammed it onto the bar. ‘Why dredge up all ‘a this shit?’
‘Because it won’t leave me alone. And… I need to make amends. Surely you can understand that after what you put Midge through.’
Bruno shrugged. ‘Don’t rememba much ’bout dat.’
‘We did some terrible things.’
Bruno wiped froth from his mouth and waved his empty glass at the bartender. As the barman filled a new glass, Bruno said, ‘’Spose ya wanna see Midge.’
Wolf nodded. Of all the people he needed to make amends with, she mattered most.
‘Ya know ’bout tha boy?’ Bruno’s tone soured.
Wolf shook his head.
Bruno peered into his glass and grimaced. ‘Best speak ta Midge ’bout dat.’
Wolf stared at him. Whatever it was, Bruno didn’t want to say. He stood and clapped Bruno’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be off.’
Bruno clumsily dismounted his stool.
Wolf stopped him. ‘Take it easy, man. You’re not sixteen anymore.’
‘Farck off, ya pussy.’
* * *
© A. R. Levett 2015
Contact me to preorder a digital version of Retold: Old Tales, New Voices for $5, which contains the full version of Big Bad as well as nine other modern retellings of fairy tales.
