Blind Man's Bluff
It was a slow day at work so I decided to try a write something. I attempted to do it as a kind of monolog in the main protagonist's mind, so it's unlike anything else I have ever written. Be gentle on the stinging reviews! Also, heres hoping you laugh at least once...
Blind Man's Bluff
The alarm shrieked out that morning just like every other morning. I really hated mornings. The kicker this morning was knocking over the lamp as I fumbled for the off button. You'd think after a year I'd be able to find the damn button in the dark, but no...
The loud crash as the lamp hit the floor was, for lack of a better word, depressing. I hated that lamp. Even before I had lost my vision I had wanted to throw it at the wall. I remember it being the ugliest color of green. But it was a house warming gift from an old college friend that doesn't visit anymore, so I kept it around despite its heinous color. I wasn't something I used anymore, but still, it was a gift...
And now it was in pieces all over the floor. And I didn't even get to do it on purpose. Great.
After cleaning up the pieces I could find of the lamp I set out to start my day. Even my attempts to leave the building seemed to point to the kind of day I was about to have. Riding the elevator down, I stopped on the third floor. The doors parted, the elevator pinged, and then nothing. Standing there quietly I could hear whomever had pushed the button waiting for the doors to close, obviously trying to avoid me by pretending they had left.
"You do know I can hear you breathing, right? I'm blind, not deaf." I stated flatly as the doors started to close. Let this be a lesson to you, you punch out one neighbor and they all start to think you're some kind of psycho. Also, don't talk about the blind man while he's in the room like he can't hear you. Just saying.
Whatever. I've been through therapy since then, and I like to pretend I'm much less angry then I was back when I first went blind. But it was still aggravating for people to be so judgmental over me. Another thing to add to the list of reasons I should have stayed in bed.
And to think, I still had all my doctor's visits left. Yes, today was just going to be super. I couldn't wait to go to The Lounge, and it was only early morning.
****
The Lounge was near my apartment complex, only half a dozen blocks away. In fact that's how I found it. Trying to assert my independence shortly after losing my vision I had left the building alone, determined I could succeed and find my way. You know, I don't even remember where I had decided I was going in the first place.
Wandering down the street, fiercely trying to lie to myself I wasn't lost, I heard the soft jazz playing through the air that had led me there. Quiet and contemporary, the place was seldom packed. A nice quiet place to sit and have a drink. It soon became one of my regular haunts. Heck, they even had a booth waiting for me every time I showed up anymore.
****
Walking into the door, the first thing that hit me was the smell of Old Spice. Lots of Old Spice. Corey was standing guard at the door again. The large tiger had a definite musky smell to him, one that you could faintly pick up underneath what seemed like gallons of different colognes if you got close enough to him. I think he was a little embarrassed by it, and he wore all that cologne to try and hide it.
"Hello Corey." I walked right past him, into the bar. He grunted as I walked by, obviously not in that chatty mood tonight. Not that he was every in a chatty mood.
I quickly walked over to the bar, my path having been practiced by months of visits. Maybe I did come here too much...
Leaning onto the bar, I called out to Anna, the usually bartender for a Friday. "Hey Anna, where's my beer?"
"Anna is sick today." The flat voice of Donovan answered back.
Great. Donovan was bar tending today. Not that he was bad at it, I just think I've just had better conversations with lampposts then I've had with Donovan. Another thing to add to the list of reasons why today was horrible.
"Right, sorry Donovan. Anyone in my booth?" I chimed back, waiting for the pint of ale I always ordered.
"Nope." Donovan's voice was always so flat. So emotionless. I always got the mental picture of the most boring man in the world when he spoke.
I sat in the booth for a while, slowly drinking my beer. It was still kind of early in the evening, so the place was rather empty. But still, it was nice to get away from my hectic day.
****
I left the bar shortly after finishing my pint of beer, having enjoyed the peace and quiet after the annoyances of the hospital. Walking out onto the street, I heard a muffled voice off to my left, followed by an angry voice. "SHUT THE HELL UP FREAK!"
They were off to my left, by the sounds of it about ten feet or so. Someone was being held silent, their cries for help muffled. I spun and started walking towards them, calling out as I went.
"What's going on here?"
"Stay out of it!" The angry man yelled back.
I was greeted by a fist to my face. I staggered back a few feet; whoever he was he hadn't hit me hard, either he wasn't keen on hitting a blind man or he wasn't very strong. He did manage to break my sunglasses, allowing me to unleash my greatest weapon. The chemo that left me blind had ruined my eyes, turning them a lifeless milky color. How did my cousin put it? She said it was like looking into the very eyes of death.
Also, when your cousin gets out of the hospital, don't compare him to one of the shambling undead. You may give him a complex. Just throwing that out there.
"Now was that really necessary?" I straightened up, folding my arms in front of my chest and trying to make an angry glare in his direction.
"Oh so you want some t..." He stopped part way through, I could tell by the sound of his voice he had turned towards me as he talked. He must have seen my eyes and figured out he had just sucker punched a blind man.
He also must have let go of whomever he was muffling. His victim started to dash past me, and whoever they were they were one of the quietest runners I had ever heard. The only noise they made as they took off was a slight clicking noise...
Clicking? What could be clicking.... Claws. He was beating on an anthro. The angry man was a furbasher.
Great. I hate those ignorant assholes.
I heard him yell after the anthro as it took of past me. "Get back here you freak!" I heard him move to follow, going off to my left. I held out my arm to stop him; there was no way I would just let this continue.
"Oh so you're going to defend that freak?" He stopped about two feet in front of me, giving me a shove that had me back step to keep my balance.
"Freak? Looks like you're the one with the problem here. Sucker punching a blind man? Your mother must be so proud."
I knew it was a bad idea to taunt him. But I had to do something to buy his victim some time to get away. Here's hoping he didn't have it in him to beat a blind man in the street.
He shoved me again, sending me another couple steps back to regain my stature. He was trying to intimidate me by pushing me around. How childish. I stood my ground, folding my arms across my chest to show I wasn't impressed.
"You think I won't kick your ass just to get to him?"
"Doubtful. You hit like a girl."
The resounding crack of his fist connecting to my noses was quickly followed by the taste of blood in my mouth. I was ready for the blow this time, but it still moved me a half a step backwards. A pair of hands landed on my shoulders, trying to catch me.
The anthro hadn't run away. He had stopped when he saw me move in the way. Either he was brave enough to stand his ground when he saw me in trouble or he was crazy. I could hear him whisper from behind me as he caught me a faint "please stop." His voice was emotional, he sounded close to the verge of tears. It was killing him to see the man hit me.
I turned my head and shot back a reply to him. "Screw that. I plan on winning."
Once again I regained my stance, standing tall and crossing my arms in front of my chest to show the man I was not impressed. I had been through a lot in my life, and some ignorant ass thought he could cow me with a few simple punches?
Oh hell no. It was time to throw some gasoline on this fire and watch the sparks fly.
"Why do you hate them so much? WHY? Is it because you're so damn shallow? Huh? Or maybe your girl ran off with that big moose down the street? That's it, isn't it? You lost your woman to the stud down the street and now you're just a big pile of sexual frustration and anger."
"Fuck you."
The anger in his voice had hit a new level. Either I was onto something, or he just flat out hated me. Either way, he had made me mad and I was going to fire back with every ounce of sarcasm I had to rub salt into the wounds. I cupped my right hand over my ear and leaned towards him.
"Doth my ear detect the subtle stinging undertones of penis envy?"
Bad idea to say that. Very bad idea.
The loud crack of his fist against my face rang out as I dropped down, catching myself with my hands on the sidewalk. Luckily the pain in my right jaw was quickly forgotten as a boot was placed squarely into my ribcage. I coughed a mouthful of blood out onto the sidewalk, gasping for breath. I could hear the anthro standing behind me faintly whine.
"You think you're so damn funny do you?"
He was shouting, almost screaming now. He was at a new level of rage. I had to come up with some way to end this, and fast. I doubted I could take him out with one hit, even IF I could somehow pull it off and connect.
Then it hit me.
Old Spice.
The faint smell of Old Spice wafted in on the faint breeze, barely detectable over the smell and taste of the blood in my mouth.
Corey. He must have heard the man screaming and was coming up behind him.
It was right then and there I gained a newfound respect for the smell of Old Spice.
Still down on my hands and knees I started laughing. Standing up slowly I turned towards the heavy breathing of the angry man, smiling even as I could feel a trickle of blood roll out of the corner of my mouth.
"I think I'm hilarious. Just ask all my friends. Isn't that right Corey?"
I heard a faint "huh?" followed by the loud crack of what I could only imagine as Corey's fist being properly introduced to the man's face. Several loud cracks followed by the man's loud grunts followed as Corey proceeded to beat him senseless. I had to do something. Say something.
"COREY!"
Silence fell as the beating stopped for a moment. Corey was waiting for me to say something. Anything. But only one thing came to my mind.
"Work the face for me." I pointed to my own ruined face for an example.
What? I never claimed to be a saint.
"You got it."
****
After a minute I heard the footsteps of the man fleeing from Corey down the street. Corey growled a low menacing growl, one of the scariest things I had ever heard in my life. Every ounce of hatred he had was ingrained into the very sound of it.
But then a new sound caught my ear. The faint clicking of the anthros claws. He was trying to sneak off now that the ordeal was over. I spun to face the direction of the faint clicking, raising a hand to point in the direction.
"OH HELL NO. You at least owe me a beer after this."
The clicking stopped, he had ceased his retreat. Then the thought hit me. I had no idea anything about him other then he was an anthro, and more than likely a canine. Corey laughed quietly by my side.
"Is he old enough to be in the bar?" I turned towards Corey as I asked, not sure where to procede.
"Looks like it to me."
****
We returned to the quiet safety of the bar. Returning to my still empty booth I heard someone quietly sit across from me as Corey walked off to get something for me to "clean up with."
"Name's Steven. So what's your name?"
"Kimble."
"Kimble? Is that northern artic or western red fox?"
"You knew? The whole time?"
His voice was shaky. He was obviously upset I had figured out what he was. The clicking claws, the faint whine, his small hands. It was the only guess that made sense. He had to be a fox.
"Figured it out pretty fast. So what was with Captain Anger up there? Have you seen him before?"
He almost started to cry right there. Great move on my part.
"He just attacked me for no reason! I don't even know what he wanted!"
"He didn't want anything Kimble. He was just a scared little man trying to make himself better."
Finally, that $250 an hour was paying off in everyday conversations!
"Why would he be scared of me..."
"People are scared of a lot of things Kimble. Things that are different," I waved my hand towards his general direction as I said that, "things they don't understand. The dark..."
I whispered the last part, mostly to myself. There was an awkward pause for about thirty seconds before I realized I had let slip something deep and emotional. I had to do something to fix the conversation.
"For me personally it's spiders."
"Spiders?" His voice was heavy with sarcasm.
"Heck yes. Those things are creepy. But on the plus side I haven't seen one in over a year!"
Corey returned, handing me my pair of broken sunglasses and a small square wrapper.
"Corey did you just give me a condom? Because we really have to work on your subtlety man." I knew what it was, but I couldn't help myself. I heard Kimble bust out laughing across the booth.
"It's an antiseptic wipe! For your bloody nose!"
I heard the heavy stomps of Corey walk off, leaving Kimble and I to sit alone at the booth for a couple hours discussing life before parting ways.
****
A few days later I returned to The Lounge. It was Monday night, and quiet as it always was on a Monday. Walking up to the bar I called out to Anna, just as I usually do.
"Hey Anna, where's my beer?"
"Right here sugar."
I heard the loud clink of the glass being set down in front of me. I loved listening to Anna's southern accent; I couldn't help but be beaming a smile. Even with all my bruises.
"Anyone in my booth tonight?"
"Actually, there is. Jittery little fox. Looks like he might run off screaming if you walked over and yelled boo. Or he'd just croak on the spot."
Kimble.
"Well then. I guess you better make it two beers tonight."