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Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

May 19, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments
Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

I was half-drunk and hanging out in an alley behind a closed department store. There was a parade going by out front– bunch of Islanders or something and you could hear occasional cheers and the sound of tubas. Just tubas– no other instruments. It made no sense– none of it.

There was another guy sitting on a crate. He was pitching playing cards into an enamel bowl. I didn’t care for the look of him.

“Thing is, I got this volcanic explosiveness right about here,” he said, gesturing towards his groin. I slowly rose to a squat, just in case he had any ideas. “Sure, I figure on lust earning me a slab in passion’s morgue but what the Christ are you going to do when you got such heat right about here?” His hands made a wide arc around his groin again. I couldn’t figure on any of it.

He reached into his tattered sports jacket and withdrew a giant green bottle of cologne that was shaped like a hammer. Running down the side was the word “POTENT” in gold letters.

“Stole this from the men’s store. You want a splash?”

I got the hell out of there.

Night fell pretty fast and it wasn’t friendly after dark in this town. Bunch of god damn house dicks up and down the business section. Everything was closed up– even the alleys had steel grates drawn across them. I walked away towards the mountains– the last bit of daylight overhead. That’s when I came across the Flamingo.

The office was lit in bright fluorescents and the counterman had a face like an ugly plow horse. He had a little radio on– some announcer was nattering on about berserk hayseeds coming out of the low hills to steal tires off town cars. “They ruined the parade today,” he complained. I didn’t take no notice.

“Boy, we sure as heck don’t have any rooms left buddy,” horse face said. “Doncha’ know there was a big ethnic parade today? A big procession of cultural pride? You shoulda’ called ahead. We don’t offer no guarantees– you either get a room or you don’t get a room. It’s a tough situation…”$_57

“Skip it,” I interrupted. “How’s about if I sit here awhile, see if anyone cancels?”

“Jesus H. Tits, mister. Do whatever you want.”

I waited for about an hour and nobody came in. Then, a young blonde came in and started chatting up horse face. Then, she was going to meet him in the lounge after his shift. Another hour passed and then he dimmed the lobby lights.

“Tell you what, seeing as how Debbie has come down, I won’t be needing my room. You can have it for twenty dollars.”

I lit a cigarette. “I can give you fifteen.”

“Alright, just give me the fifteen and get the hell out of here.” He handed me a key with a greasy plastic fob. “It’s in the motor court, behind the lounge.”

I huffed it back there. There were some girls in the pool and I figured on ogling them a little later through the curtains. They had some beers too outside the fence and I crept up and popped two out of the six pack. They wouldn’t miss ’em none.

I got the lock open and switched on the lights. Unmade beds, filthy green carpeting, a scratchy-looking sofa off to one side. Clothes everywhere. Bunch of instant cameras lying around with the photos popped out the front but not removed. The guy had really gone to town.

I drank the two beers down fast and then smoked three cigarettes, one after the other. There was a teevee but it didn’t get nothing. I opened up the door and stared out at the pool– the girls were still there– they were taking turns jumping off the diving board onto a giant inflatable float that was shaped like an alligator. I couldn’t figure on it.

I walked over to the fence.

“Any of you girls into Lankvillian men?” I said senselessly. Then, I fell over. Everything had hit me all at once.

It was morning when I woke up alone in horse face’s room. No idea how the hell I got there.

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