Home > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

We were sitting at the end of the bar near the jukebox. The old drunk had the corner.

“We’re all dying,” he said. “But man, Oakes, you show it like nobody I ever seen.”

I looked up at the mirrors behind the bottles. There, on my forehead, were the distinct red splotches. They had appeared overnight. Several teeth throbbed mercilessly. My legs were covered in sores. The blood came through the bandages, through the pant legs. It was all a hell of a mess.

“Your face looks like my piss in the morning, Oakes.”

That was it. I started unbuttoning my shirt. “Let’s settle this outside in the weedy area.” The bartender stopped buffing a glass. “On the lot behind the knives and puzzles shop, boys, not on my lot, not on my god damn lot.”

The drunk got up. He had a huge head and squinty eyes. He was a big guy but I figured I could get a knock in. A bunch of people materialized out of the shadows– followed us out.

Some guy came over and drew a circle in the dust with a stick. He had a huge head too. I couldn’t figure on any of it.

A couple of hours later I awoke in some motel room. There was a dull ache on one side of my head and in my belly. When I tried to sit up, the pain knifed me back down.Howard_Johnson's_Motor_Lodge_-_Penns_Grove,_New_Jersey

The room was done up all in brown. There were two queen beds with white vinyl headboards. There was a giant picture on the wall of the exact same room but with a family in it. The father was on the phone and the mother was standing around in a blue dress. The father looked like a drunk. A couple of kids were lounging on one of the beds. Below, in bold letters, it said AMPLE FREE PARKING. I thought about that for awhile but came up empty.

There was a TV and I struggled over to it and pushed it on. A blue glow came up, then some assholes were standing around talking bullshit. I tried another station and it was the same assholes. Then, there was a station that came up that just had the word “ADULT” on the screen. Below, there were instructions on a number to call. I called it.

A female voice answered. “What’s all this about, this adult business?” I asked.

“We have movies for men,” she said. She had a deep, sultry voice– I thought about messing around with myself but figured on it being indecent. “Your bill will be charged at the end of your stay.”

“Alright, then, give it to me, who gives a damn.”

The screen changed. It said, “NEXT UP: RUBBEROUS BUTTOCKY PUMPING. “What the hell?” I thought, “that don’t sound bad.” Some music started up and then there was a couple walking down a sidewalk towards a house. Then, they went inside the house. The camera remained on the house for a long time. Fifteen minutes passed, maybe twenty. Then, the couple came out of the house. The woman’s hair was all tussled. Then the movie ended and the same ADULT screen came back up.

“What the hell is this?”

I called the girl back.

“That wasn’t nothing,” I said.

“Well, it was implied sir. Didn’t you understand the filmmaker’s implication?”

I was too tired for an argument. They all wear you out and then they get you one way or they get you the other way.

“I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the movie,” she said. She sounded legitimately sorry.

“Skip it. There ain’t no merit in it.” I hung up.

I lied there awhile. Started to think that maybe I really was dying.

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