Everything Fails. T Van Santana

shrugged and shook his head.

      “Just calm down, Honey,” Bosse said.

      “Fuck off with that honey shit, Bosse,” I said.

      Bosse’s one of those motherfuckers who had a nickname for everyone. Honey was his nickname for me. He’d thought it up at the pool one summer and gotten stuck on it. It’s fucking annoying.

      Argos put his hand lightly on my shoulder. “Please, just take it easy, okay? No one is upset with you. You’ll feel better if you calm down.”

      I swatted his hand away. “I’ll feel better when I’ve pitted that Plum.” I was running out of fruit metaphors, but I wasn’t above reusing them.

      “Who is Plum?” Argos asked.

      “You don’t fucking know Plum?”

      Argos shook his head no.

      “Yeah you do,” Bosse chimed in. “Plum lives over by Ford, who’s the bass player in Doron’s band.”

      “Doron who fucked my sister, Doron?” Argos asked.

      “I guess,” Bosse said. “Did they fuck?”

      “Yes, they fucked,” Argos said. “What an asshole.”

      “And dirty motherfucking assholes flock together,” I said. “Plum. Ford. Whoever fucked your sister. They’re all alike, man.”

      “Yeah,” Argos said. “I guess.”

      “So help me find this motherfucker, and we’ll get some justice.”

      I watched as Argos’ rage gave way to the wake of better judgment.

      “I don’t know. I mean, talking shit about someone is one thing. Shooting someone is something else.”

      “Fuck that. Don’t be an asshole.”

      “What? Why am I an asshole?”

      “If you’re not helping me deal out sweet justice to these fucks, then you’re one of them,” I said not really believing anything of the sort. But I was trying to put the pressure on so he’d help me find Plum so I could shoot them.

      “I still think you should take it easy.”

      “Aw, fuck you, then.” I pushed Argos.

      His drink spilled some on his cutesy little plaid shorts.

      “Hey, now!” he said. “You don’t want to get hooked up with me.”

      I smacked the bottom of the cup and sent drink spraying everywhere, including all over him.

      There’s a lot of laughter from the peanut gallery.

      I saw that rage from earlier show back on his face, and he took a step toward me, arms back at his sides, like he was gonna rend me once he reached me.

      “Yeah,” I said. “C’mon motherfucker! Let’s do this!”

      Bosse stepped between us. I hadn’t even noticed him walk over.

      “Listen, Honey. I’m not asking you now, I’m telling you to sit the fuck down and relax. Before you hurt yourself.”

      I took a swing at him, but my fist fell short of his head by about an inch and a half.

      He blinked then took a sip of whatever in fuck he was drinking. “Don’t do that again,” he said. “I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to see you get hurt. But I’m not gonna let you hurt me or anyone else.”

      “They’re not gonna hurt shit on me,” Argos shouted from behind Bosse.

      Argos was taller than me, but Bosse was almost a foot taller still, so I could only hear Argos after Bosse stepped in.

      I ignored Bosse’s warning and swung again.

      He just put his hand on my sternum, which interrupted my swing and kept me away from him.

      I felt my enthusiasm for fighting these dudes wane and slumped down to the ground. My legs just came from under me.

      “Good,” Bosse said. “Just chill out. You’ll feel better. And besides, fucking Plum’s gone. They left, like, thirty minutes ago.”

      “It’s not fair,” I said.

      “Who said it was?”

      6 | The Old Crane, on Page Road

      I looked at the cow shit on my fingers. “Man, what the fuck are we doin’ here?”

      Danielle smiled at me in the dark, her copper hair pulled back and silvered by the moonlight. “Suck it up, bitch. You’ll be glad later.”

      I shook my head. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

      The pile of shit in front of me was about a foot wide and full of fungus. “Which ones are we picking again?”

      “Look for the skirt,” Danielle said.

      “Yeah, you told me that before. I don’t know what that means.”

      A spotlight blinded me.

      I rolled onto my back, flat against the smelly ground.

      “What are you fuckin’ hoodlums up to?” It’s the voice of a crotchety old man. But not a very convincing one.

      I sat up and brushed my leather. “Fuck you, Chains. I just rolled into a pile of cow shit.”

      Cheney laughed.

      “And turn off that fuckin’ light.”

      “Yeah,” Danielle said, “you’re gonna pull the fuckin’ bulls in here.”

      The light went off, and I could see Cheney standing there, tall and grinning. He’s older than we are, already an adult, and still hanging out with us. That didn’t seem weird to me.

      I lit up a smoke. “I am so fucking over this.”

      Chains hunched down next to me. “You gotta look fer the skirt.”

      I let some smoke out, a long plum from each nostril. “Yeah. I know.”

      “I think we got enough,” Danielle said. “No thanks to you.”

      “Fucking finally. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

      “Way, way, wait.” Cheney pumped his palms like brakes.

      “What?” I asked.

      “You kids ready for somein’ kew?”

      I wasn’t. “No.”

      Danielle was curious. “Cool like what?”

      “Like some really fucked up shit.”

      Chains and Danielle and Tijn were forever enamored of really fucked up shit.

      “C’mon, shitheads,” I said. “Let’s just go to fuckin’ Wendy’s house and make this tea.”

      “Wha? You gotta jus eat ‘em,” Chains said.

      He snatched a mushroom straight from the cow pat, put it in his mouth, chewed it as the stem disappeared, still brown at the bottom.

      I curled my lip. “Ew.”

      “You didn’t look for the skirt,” Danielle said.

      Chains shrugged.

      “Let’s just fuckin’ jet.” I flicked my smoke.

      “No, no, wait! This is really fuckin’ kew. I promise.”

      I shook my head.

      Danielle looked at me. “C’mon. It’ll just take a minute.”

      I shrugged. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Fuckin’ boots are covered in mud, jacket’s got shit on it. Great fuckin’ night.”