Lobster Boy

The sign on the door said

“Sorry, We’re Open”

And a brass bell rang

As the glass and metal door

Closed behind me

Sealing out the night.

I walked up to the

Backs of anonymous regulars

Parked at the horseshoe bar

A relic from the Fifties

Or sixties...

Pristine and beautiful

Though worn.

There were plenty of ashtrays

Spread across the wooden surface

And at a glance

It looked like they were all being used.

Still wearing their work clothes

The rough crowd was

Softened in bar room neon

And flourescent

Hanging fixtures

Though it didn’t do much

By any means.

Hard days followed by harder nights.

I could tell that the one empty seat was for me.

I recognized his frame

Sitting in the stool on the right.

I slithered past the uglies

And took a seat.

“It’s about time Fuckwad!”

“I coulda sold that seat twenty times and paid for my drinks waiting for you.”

“Easy Tiger! You know I don’t find you attractive when you’re angry and acting like a bitch!”

I said

With a crooked smile.

I watched him take a drag on his cirgarette

That he held in his claw.

He stared straight ahead

Watching us in the mirror behind the bar.

He exhaled

Staining the ceiling

A darker shade of tobacco brown.

Lobster Boy swirled a glass of ice and whiskey

In his other claw

And took a swig.

“Dude” he said.

“The only thing that I’ve held longer than that seat is your bitch’s ass while I’m doing her.”

“This seat? This seat looks old, tired and sagging like YOUR bitch’s ass muthafucka!”

“And don’t call me dude!”

“Yo barkeep! My girlfriend here want’s to buy me a drink!”

Lobsterboy turned for the first time

And faced me.

“Shit! You can buy your own damn drink. You don’t put out enough to get a drink from me!”

He turned away again

And faced the mirror.

“Look” he said.

“Ya holdin’?”

“I’m holding onto the back of your head while you go down on me.”

“I got what you want, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

I pushed a religious pamphlet across the bar

Leaving it in front of his drained bar glass.

He calmly put his claw over it

Pinching it and putting it in his pocket.

“I’ll be back in a coupla minutes. Gotta hit the head.”

I watched him exert himself

Lifting his chunky frame

Off of the barstool

Steadying himself

Then continuing to make his way

To the men’s room.

I noticed the rolls of skin on the back of his neck

As he walked away.

I watched the characters around me as the time passed.

Ten, fifteen minutes went by

So I got to study the toothless

The hairless, the frail, the lost

The insane, the drunkard

A few has been whores

The corpse with the patch over one eye

The man speaking through a talk box

The midget sitting on a few phone books on top of his barstool.

I could see why Lobster Boy felt comfortable

Hanging here.

I ordered another drink.

The bartender brought it over and said

“What? Did your girlfriend fall in or something?”

“Look I told the two of you before that you can’t be doing that shit in here.”

“This is a respectable establishment!”

I looked around and laughed.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Fuck you! Finish your last goddamn drink here and get Lobster Boy’s fat ass out of the can! Don’t make me make a phone call. This ain’t no shooting fucking gallery!”

He directed his weasel eyes

Right at me

Determined.

I drained my drink in one pass

Staring back at the barkeep.

I put some cash on the bar

And got up to go find out what

Was taking ‘Fat Ass’ so long.

I pushed through the men’s room door.

It closed itself with a BANG!

“Yo douchebag! Put your dick away! We gotta blow this place or he’s calling the cops.”

Silence.

“Lobster?”

I could see his shoes underneath the stall.

There was some blood

And a syringe on the floor

But no answer.

“You fat fuck!”

The door was locked.

I wiggled under the stall door

Barely being able to squeeze myself up

Into the stall’s interior

With the Fat Boy nodded out on the toilet.

I could smell his sweat amidst the humid urine.

I grabbed him by the collar

And started shaking him.

He barely moved.

He was all weight.

I smacked him in the face a couple of times.

“You sonuvabitch!”

His claws lay down by his side

His one arm bleeding.

“Yo Lobster!”

Nothing.

I put my ear up to his mouth to see if he was breathing.

It appeared to me that he wasn’t

But it was hard to tell.

I punched him over his heart a few times

My fist sinking into doughy flesh.

“You bastard. Ruin my fuckin’ night will you?”

I put my fingers over his nostrils

Closing them.

As I inhaled

Preparing to blow air into his lungs

I could smell his fowl breath

Of whiskey, stale smoke and yellow teeth.

“I should just leave your sorry ass here” I thought, “I so don’t want to do this.”

I moved in getting ready to lock lips

With Lobster Boy

Pressing

Breathing out hard

When he started to stir

Mumbling something unintelligible.

Again.

His eyes opened.

Slowly

“Wot the phuckkkk youuuuu doingggg toooo meeee youuuuu hommmmooooo?”

I felt his claws pushing up into my shoulders.

“Getttt offfffaaaa meeeee!”

I heard the men’s room door open

And bang shut.

At the same time I heard the bartender’s voice

“What the fuck are you two doing in here?!!! I told you to leave!”

Pause.

“What the FUCK are you two doing in there?”

“This AIN’T the Port Authority men’s room in here!”

“Take that shit up the street to that queer bar!”

“I don’t need the cops here, but if you two can’t drag your pansie faggot asses outta here

in five minutes, I’m calling them myself!”

“Jeezus Fuckin’ Christ! I’m trying to run a decent establishment here!”

The door opened and banged shut again.

“You shit!”

I said to Lobster Boy

“Now that old bastard thinks we’re in here having sex, you fuck!”

I looked down

Seeing for the first time

How it must’ve looked to the old man

Lobster Boy’s feet facing away from the toilet

While my own were facing him

My back up against the stall door.

I spit out the taste

Of Lobster Boy.

“You’re disgusting mate! You need to brush your fucking teeth once in a while!”

“Wot happened?”

He droned.

“What happened? You came this close to fucking killing yourself DUDE!”

“Get your shit together before the cops get here.”

I turned and fidgeted with the lock

On the stall door.

I opened it and squeezed through

Watching him slowly get up.

“Woahhh. That shit is good.”

He wiped the sweat off of his face

With the pass

Of a fleshy claw.

“Look dickbreath, you just need to make it from here to the front door. Think you can handle

that?”

“Shit is strong.”

He moved like a big baby

Towards the bathroom door

That I was holding open.

Taking slow, careful steps.

“Keep moving.”

I instructed.

He shuffled through the bar

All eyes watching us

Me walking behind him.

I opened the front door

Bell ringing.

The night came in.

He put his left claw up on the door

Steadying himself

For the walk out into the

Baby aspirin orange

Of the city lights.

I turned glaring at the bartender

And the circus inside.

“Respectable my ass!”

I said laughing.

Then it was done

As the door closed

Shutting us outside.