Old Man Pete #4

So one Saturday night Pete was out of whiskey so after all the nonsense included in any endeavor we loaded into his van to visit the ladies at State Liquor Store #9.

I had a family and not a lot of money so I sort of tagged along without really being a structural part of the group. Riding along to the store there was the usual yelling and repeating of mindless dialogue and I smiled and nodded, commenting when it seemed appropriate even though I seldom knew what was going on.

We got there in good time with Pete at the wheel. (He can’t walk but drives just fine) We pulled up into the sweet spot directly in front of the door in the handicap spot and the fight started.

Pete: KEVIN! Shaddap goddammit Shut… Shut.. KEVIN….. Shuddap…Shaddap… goddammit go get the bottle.

Kevin: I got it last time.

You’ve gotta understand that Kevin is the closest person to being an idiot I’ve ever known. I don’t know his hard drug history, (there might not be a hard drug history) but he could sure drink and smoke pot. Twice he passed out for a few days and I wondered if he was gonna die but in a few more days he was back like he’d never left. I have pictures of him unconscious at another neighbor’s house. One time he lost his voice for almost a week having something to do with Everclear.

Kevin is loud, obnoxious, almost always drunk, and plays a mean game of chess. (Yes, he beat me at chess almost every time) His laugh was totally happy with the rasp of a dying man and he LOVED to laugh.

Kevin was up front of the van with Pete, and Kevin’s mom Sandy, was in the back with me.

Sandy: Well I’m not getting out; my head hurts.

K: I don’t want to get it. I went last time.

P: Just go get the goddamned bottle Kevin you sonofabitch.

So that theme cycled with me chiming in with I’ll go get it Pete, just tell me what you want.

No Kenny goddammit, Let Kevin go get it.

This continued for maybe 15 minutes. What can I say… It was interesting and weird at the same time…. whatever, don’t judge me.

Finally it was deemed appropriate that we all go in. In the sense of whatever we unloaded. Cursing and yelling being the minor spectacle, I got Pete his crutches and poor Sandy brought her headache, and me just wanting to drink whiskey.

It must have taken 5 minutes to get to the door and IT WAS LOCKED!!!!!!!!


They closed while we sat in that goat smelling van and argued like morons.


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