then quickly dunk in another ball. And another ball. And another ball. I’m on fire, I’m moving, I’m owning, I’m winning this shit!
When all I have is the eight ball left, I breathe in and out slowly like I’m a yoga master centering my chi, and then I snap my stick out perfectly, sinking the eight ball in without a hitch. I’m smug as a bug who snuck under the motherfucking rug.
“Fuck, yeah!” I yell, raising my stick like it’s a trophy I just won in the Olympics. “I told you!” I exclaim, pointing at the dude I just beat. “What do you have to say now, sucker?”
He glances down at the table with an incredulous look on his face. “Uh, you...you just sunk in all my balls.”
I blink at him as his words slowly churn in the slow-moving water wheel inside my head. “I…” My eyes skate over to the striped balls that are still sitting on the table. Oh. Right. I was stripes.
“Motherfuck!”
I throw the stick across the room like a javelin I want to skewer someone with. Several people yelp and jump out of the way as it clashes against the wall.
“Hey!” the bartender yells, pointing to a sign above his head. I squint at it. Don’t throw the pool sticks. Huh. I guess he gets that a lot.
I whirl back on my opponent. “Those balls fucking changed!”
He and his friends, including Pizza, laugh. I wish I had my pool stick again so I could smack it upside their heads. That would wipe the amused looks off their faces.
“I demand a redo,” I say with a huff, crossing my arms. I’ve demanded a “redo” now about three times, but who’s counting?
They keep laughing, and I’m about to go full heinous bitch on them, but the bar door swings open and my nose immediately latches onto a scent.
The best scent.
Without another word, I abandon the pool game and the laughter as I stalk over to my prey by the door. I grab the pizza box out of the delivery boy’s hands before Pizza dude can even come over to pay for it.
“Hey, I wanted some of that!” Pizza shouts at my back as I head for my booth again.
“Fuck off.”
I hear him and several others chuckle as Pizza pays the delivery person. “Damn, you’re a greedy drunk.”
I don’t reply to him. I’m too busy pounding pizza into my mouth. I eat the whole box, not even caring that everyone is staring at me again.
“Fuck me, is she gonna eat the whole thing by herself?” one of them asks.
“Yeah I am, motherfucker, and your voice is disrupting my chewing,” I call out, not breaking eye contact with my deliciously warm and delicious pizza. It’s the best thing I’ve tasted in weeks.
“Where does she put it all?”
“Right beside all the alcohol and attitude, I think.”
Pizza dude raises a toast at me while I eat the pizza like a feral wolf hovering over its kill and growling at all the other wolves to stay away. It’s fucking delicious.
Instead of hitching rides and hanging out in public parks, I should’ve just barhopped my way here. I would’ve been so much better fed and alcoholed. It’s done wonders for my mood too.
I’ll have to practice my pool skills though. But once I do? It’s on. I’m gonna be a money hustling champion. I’ll be picking pockets and making goals...or whatever the motherfuck it’s called when you hit the pool balls into the holes. Point is, I’m gonna be rich.
8
Jetta
Hindsight can be a real braggy bitch.
Right now, it’s nagging me like a wife of ten years who’s always right. I refuse to acknowledge her though, even though it’s very clear that I probably shouldn’t have ingested an entire large pizza and nine glasses of alcohol. But it seemed like such a good idea at the time.
My stomach is wrecked, and I’m drunk as hell. I don’t even have to fake it anymore. My steps really are this unsteady. I walk out of the bar at closing time, waving off the other poor fucks who stayed out this late.
“You’re my hero!” one of the drunks calls at my back. I give him the finger, but he just laughs, the sound ricocheting into the night.
The town is dead at this hour, and the hardware store is definitely closed, but now I’m too fucking drunk to do a proper job of breaking in. I’d kick my own ass if I wouldn’t end up face down on the