Vice City : The Bud

Chapter 4 - Beginnings Of Brutality

Authors Note - please be kind, I'm not a professional writer I do this as a hobby - Leave a vote/comment if you enjoy as every little bit helps

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Chapter4 - Simon Maccarth - Beginnings Of Brutality

Iwake this morning as I have done for the past month or so, to thenauseating stench of a motel room. An aromatic mixture of piss andguilty sweat invades my nostrils. My head pounds regret behind myeyes, whether its the smell or the taste of bourbon in my mouthcausing it I couldn't say and presently I don't much give a shit.All I want is for my head to stop screaming long enough for me tofigure a few things out. For example what time did my the boss,Chief, say I had to be on duty ?

Ipush myself upright so I'm sitting straight on the rock like chairI had spent, what little of the night I could, sleeping on. Lookingover to the clock I would have let out a squeal but the mere thoughtof a noise like that makes my head pulse all the more. Ten thirty itreads. I've woken up just enough to say;

"Fuck.Chief is gonna have my balls for this," so quietly the words barelyescape the crusting edges of my lips.

Itstill hurts though like nothing I've ever felt before. Feels likesomeone's smashing cymbols across my brain. Let's leave it atit's put me in a rather temperamental mood. A shit way to start myday. I was supposed to be in for work over an hour ago but with allthe strength I can muster I still can't get out of this chair. Alack of motivation leaves me dropped for another ten minutes. As thehands pass I check off things I could have done in that time that Ican't do anymore. No time for a shower now, even a quick one wouldtake too long. Chance of a small breakfast slips past. When I finallymanage to stand I have enough time for one thing, to grab my jacketand go.

I'vebeen wearing the same suit for days now. It's beginning to smelllike the underside of a bridge. Got no time to wash it you see ? Busythat's me, far too busy. That's what I tell people anyway.

"Youthink I got time to do the laundry, not when I'm saving lives,"I'd say whenever some upper class twit takes a whiff and has thenerve to comment.

Iget to my car, blazing up a cigarette as I move, I put the lighter inmy jacket pocket and get in. Don't get the wrong idea, the shit-boxI'm driving isn't mine. The rusting metal and smashed plasticain't my doing. It's a rental. If I had my way I'd be drivingmy proper babe not some falling apart hunk of junk. But that's theway things pan out sometimes. You play with the hand you're givenand right now I've got a hand of nothing. The smoke from mycigarette lingers like a fog as I fumble around the car. With eachswish of my mouth I leave behind a new trail until the car may aswell have been on fire for all the smoke clambering to get out theclosed windows. I grab my trilby hat from the backseat and throw itover my uncombed hair. It takes two or three turns in the ignitionbefore the car starts up and what a noise it makes. The whole thingtrembles, feels like it's gonna fall apart any second. The exhaustchokes and splutters, it's clearly taken a lungful down the wrongpipe. That's how it sounds anyway but I'm no mechanic. My eyesbarely half open I pull out of the parking lot and into the road. Thecigarette cloud blocks my view. It takes me a good couple of minutesbefore I realise that opening the window will suck out thedistraction. A sudden gust from opening the glass flings thecigarette from me mouth and stubs it against the dashboard putting mycandy stick out. I think it's the first time since waking up thatmy eyes have actually widened. I snatch my jacket and search throughthe pockets. Not paying attention I get two near misses from the oncoming lane before finding my zippo. Drivers going the opposite wayyell some obscenities at me as our cars pass inches from one another.I would have yelled something back if my head was clearer. Retortsaren't exactly my strong point on good mornings never mind the dayswhen I'm fighting off one mother of a hangover. I ignore them andfocus on getting the cigarette re-lit. When at last it's glowingagain I suck in the sweet cancer as if this is the first inhale aftera week of abstinence. God it feels great to have the fire in mylungs. Gave it up once for the girl who became my wife. Now that'scoming to an end it makes me free to smoke 'til I cough up my lungsand die. So I'm not seeing a bad side.