text: “Jesus Christ, man. It’s like they forgot how to throw the fucking ball!” “Hmm? Oh yea, this fucking country, man.” I was staring at the same TV the bartender was looking at, but to be honest, I couldn’t see shit. Before I got a glance at the game a commercial had started-- “Biff and Smiffer Forget-me-pills” with some Beatles song in the background. “The corporations can’t even let the Beatles die in peace... been years since any of them have been alive but those sons of bitches still using them to make a profit. Like either of those billionaires really need any more advertising. Already got the whole world doped up...” The bartender said. “Uh-huh.” I dug my fist into the biffer in front of me and licked the powder off the side of my knuckle. I think I’m about four, maybe five deep? Shit, isn’t it the bartender’s job to keep track of all the people in the bar? “I’m telling you James, the whole world has gone to shit. The fact that those pills haven’t put every bar in this city out of business by now is a goddamn miracle.” The bartender said. “Uh-huh,” I said back. I reached in my pocket to pull out my next biffer but came up empty. “Say, friend, do you happen to have any...” I said while making a rubbing motion between my thumb and index finger. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure,” He said. Without looking away from the screen he reached under the bar and pulled out a glass. He poured two shots of bourbon into the glass and pushed it across the bar to me. “Oh no, I meant... ah, never mind.” I said while grabbing the drink and shoving it down my throat. Tasted as plain as water to me. “And you should see fuckign upperside at this point! Me and the wife went to dinner the other week, and you can just tell the entire city has been robbed of its soul. You can see it in their goddamn eyes, they’re empty.” “Uh-huh.” “You know what I like about you, James? You know how to hold a conversation. The rest of these sad saps in this bar are so far biffed that they might as well be dead. You at the very least give me the respect of an honest talk,” The bartender went on. “Uh-huh,” I said. I looked around the bar to see if there was anyone halfway conscious who could spare me an extra pill. Four or five deep I think. It should be fine to take at least two or three more. Hell, even four should be fine. I stood up from my chair and held myself upright on the bar as I peered out over the booths behind me. “Hey, friend. Got any spare...” I called out to the guy in a suit sitting at the booth behind me while making that same rubbing motion. He looked back at me with a stern look. “Do I look like some sort of junkie to you, asshole? Turn the fuck around.” I snickered at him. “Alright, buddy, you have a nice night.” I turned back around and shook my head to myself. I heard the guy stand up and stumble over to me. “Listen, asshole, I’m no junkie. So you shut the fuck up and keep that shit to yourself,” he said while digging his finger into my back. I sighed while turning my spinning barstool around. “How about you keep your hands to yourself, alright? You’re not fooling anyone.” He blinked repeatedly. “What the fuck did you just say? I’ll touch whoever the fuck I want to touch, I work in the fucking upperside!” I sighed to myself again before putting my arms on the table to push myself up. Halfway through the bartender called out to the suited nutcase. “Listen here. I don’t care where you work, if you don’t want me calling federal on your ass you’ll get the fuck out of my bar.” The suited man straightened his back while blinking quickly. “Al-alright. My bad, friend. You have a blessed night.” He said. The man turned towards the back door, maintaining his posture as he walked out the door and down the cold, rainy street. “Sorry about that, James. Those upperside fellas are great for business but you’re shit out of luck if you’re looking for human decency. Can I get you another drink?” The bartender said. I stood up from the bar with my empty glass in my hand. I tipped it towards him before putting it back on the bar. “No thanks, friend. I think I’m headed home for the night.” I noticed out of the corner of my eye a handful of biffers on the floor near where the suited man was sitting. I stumbled over and looked under his table. Three, four, five. I think four is fine, I’ll save the other one for tomorrow. I raised my fist holding the biffers up to the bartender and gave him a smile and a nod before sticking my hands in my coat pockets and heading out the front door. The streets were dead with rain. I turned and started walking to the right of the bar. I didn’t bother looking to my left --hurts my eyes this late at night to see all that bright light coming from the main road. I could feel the peaking of a migraine just from the silent hum of the big glowing billboards plastered on the sides of the main road. I cracked my neck back and forth and gave a shiver while I slowly walked down the hollow sidewalk away from the bar. I took my hands out of my pocket to look at my biffers. I popped four of them in my mouth while I was walking. Probably should have taken a beer to go to wash it down but I’ll be fine. I’ll forget all about it soon enough. The streets were pretty soaked. Honest to god, I’ve been going to this bar for twenty years now but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be going if it keeps raining like this. I could feel my migraine swelling as a loud siren echoed “Biffers forget-me-pills, keeping America strong for twenty years!” echoing from the main road. The bright lights and sounds don’t make the walk any more fun, and I’m getting old at this point, a mile long city walk isn’t what it was when I was twenty. It’s not like I can’t just take my biffers at home... I kept walking down the soaked city street running horizontally to the bar until I came up to a left turn around an apartment building. Stained to the side of the building was a giant television screen with a flashing advertisement for Doughcarrots. I tried them once, weren’t really my thing. Never really got the point of taking it in any form other than the raw pills. It’s the quickest way to get the biffers into your bloodstream-- don’t really see much use for the candy-covered versions. Guess it’s to appeal to the next generation. I heard a buzz in my pocket-- a text from my son Connor. *Dad, come home,* it read. I went to type a response but decided against it. Better to just leave it. I’ll forget it all soon enough. I walked past the building and headed straight down the path. Should just be a straight walk now. I felt a buzz in my pocket so I stopped and took out my phone. I had a big grin plastered on my face as I scrolled through my text messages without a clue as to who was trying to contact me. My eyes dripped a little bit from the bright screen but it felt good. Jesus Christ that suited guy takes some serious shit, he must have a whole lot he’s trying to forget. Maybe this guy has contact with some black market distributor. I’ve been a loyal customer to the big CVS on my block for as long as I can remember, which isn’t very long mind you, but maybe I oughta change it up if they’ve been giving me low-class shit. I know I’m not no “upperside” man but I’m not one to skip out when it comes to biffers. As I was standing there looking at my phone it began to ring. C-O-N-N-O-R. Connor? Do I know a Connor? My son... I think he’s my son. Is he my son? Ah, I can’t remember. I put my phone back in my pocket and kept walking. There was something I was supposed to do. I put my hand in my pocket again and pulled out... another biffers! Where did I get this? I guess I lucked out! I popped that thing in my mouth and kept walking. Four... Four? Five? I kept walking down that street when I heard a series of screams and punchescoming from the alleyway in between two apartment buildings on my right. I stopped walking and listened. “Sick fucks... get the fuck off of me!” I heard the man get pushed up against the far wall and punched again. He was grabbed again and thrown on the ground. “You sick little shits--taking it out on me that you live in this shit hole. Hit me all you like-- won’t change...” The man was kicked in the mouth. Another voice started talking. “If you really were so much better than us you wouldn’t be walking down some shit-road in downerside. Now, are you gonna give me your good shit or not?” Behind the man, another voice started to speak. “Buddy, you got about two more kicks in before we start cutting, and when we start cutting, you’re about out of chances for forgiveness from us. So how’s about it?” I turned around from the corner I was behind and looked over at the men. The one on the ground looked familiar, but I couldn’t... suit. He was wearing a suit. Do I work with him? Must be something like that. The other two... maybe I knew them? Their faces were just lips and noses and eyes to me. The man with pieces of glass in front of his eyes looked at me and started talking.“James, what are you doing here? Head home man, you don’t want to see this shit.” I think he was talking to me... Hell, no one else was here. I don’t think that’s my name though... the only name I can remember is... “J-Jude,” I said in a shaky tone. The two men standing up looked at me awkwardly. The one with the glass looked at the other and put a hand on his shoulder before walking around the man in the suit towards me. “Yea, I know James, Jude. Have you had any tonight? I thought for a second. Four? Five? Is this why I had to remember that number? No... I don’t think so. “James, let me call someone to bring you home. You shouldn’t be by yourself.” I scratched my face while the man kept talking. A lot of what he said phased in and out. He was looking at me like he wanted me to say something. “James? Did you hear me? Can I call Connor to come to get you?” I blinked at the man. Connor? Was that Connor on the floor with the blood in his mouth? I took a step back and pointed to the man. “Is... is that Connor? The man in the back let out a chuckle. “Hah, I’ve seen you bad James, but not like this...” The man in front turned around and looked at the other man. “Genzo, shut the fuck up. If I hear another word out of your fucking mouth me and this upperside sack of shit will beat you up instead.” The man with the glass eyes walked up to me and put his arm around me while leading me around the corner of the alley. “Listen, James, we’re in the middle of something here... you got to leave us be. We’ll get you home, don’t worry, we always take care of our own. But you gotta let us finish up this business.” He seemed nice. Maybe we were friends. I looked at him and smiled. He gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Good. Why don’t you sit right here and we’ll come to get you when we’re done.” That sounded like a good idea. I sat down right where we were standing and looked at the ground. It was so wet. Wet, wet... wet. The man with the glass turned away from me back towards his friend and the man in the suit. He cracked his knuckles. “Now... are you ready to tell us where the fuck your biffers are?” The man in the suit looked up at the man with the glass and spits at his feet. “You fucking trash... you’re all fucking trash! I don’t have any biffers, I would have told you before you beat the shit out of me if I--!” The man with the glass punched the man in the suit in the jaw. “I think it’s time for cutting, I’m sick of this. Genzo, get my knife.” Genzo pulled the bag off his back and pulled out a short blade. The handle was thick and black like the grip of a gun but the blade was thin-- so thin that the drops of rain leaking from the sky were too thick to land on it. “Genzo, do me a favor and call up Connor Young. Tell him we’ve got James with us and he has to come to get him. I’ll deal with this.” “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. After I hear the shot fired I’ll know you’re done.” Genzo throws the knife at the man with the glass who catches it. He turned around from the suited man and walked down the other side of the alley before making a right turn. The man on the ground spits another wad of blood at the man with the glass. “You think I’m scared of you, you little shit? You could kill me a thousand times over and you would still be immeasurably beneath me, and there is nothing you can do about that.” The man with the glass let out a chuckle. “Even moments away from death, people like you won’t give it up. I wonder if a couple of cuts is what it’ll take to finally crack you...” Jude. Is that what they are called? No... no, Jude means something to me. I can’t remember what but that word is strong, I know it. My ears felt like they were ringing as I watched the glass man tear into the suited man. Maybe I’m Jude. I looked down on the wet floor at my feet. The pavement was soaked and looked back up at me. I heald my finger up to the small puddle in front of my lap and looked at the glassy black reflection of my finger in the puddle. No...no, I don’t think I’m Jude. But I think it is a name. I can’t remember but I can feel it. Something warm that makes me smile, that’s Jude. Jude’s funny too... maybe a funny movie... no, no I don’t think it’s a movie. But I remember watching a movie. And Jude. Jude and the movie. I looked up again at the two men. There were gashes all over the suited man’s face. I looked at his eyes... he was crying. Marble fell down his eyes and added to the pools of liquid on the damp concrete he laid on. He was crying so much... it was so sad. Jude... Jude cried a lot too. I remember Jude crying. She lay there, looking up at me while holding my hand. She mouthed words to me but I can’t remember them. But they made me happy, Jude made me happy. Was that man Jude? Yes, it must be. Jude was here, with me, and she was still crying. The smile was gone and the goodness was gone and all that was left was the tears and the wetness. Why, why would they do this to Jude? The man with the glass threw the knife behind him and picked the man with the suit up by the neck; pushing him against the wall. No. They can’t do this to Jude. She doesn’t deserve this. Jude... I stood up and watched the man with the glass choke out Jude. I walked over, picked up the knife with my right hand, and shoved it into the glass man’s side. He looked at me with shock as he fell to the ground screaming. I took the knife and stabbed him again, and again, and again. “Jude... it’s okay. I’ll never let you down.” The man with the glass looked at me with shock. He reached his arms out to me while choking on the taste of his own blood, but he had no words left. I looked at him and smiled. “Jude... Jude, you take a--” A shot rang through my back. The sound was loud, all I could hear was it dripping down my backside. I coughed and turned over to my side. I looked up at Jude, covered in blood and coughing. I reached out my hand and I was met in return with blood. Jude spit at me and kicked me. I cried, why would she do this to me? Why would Jude hurt me like this? Jude stopped kicking and looked at me. “Downerside trash. Should have stayed in the fucking bar.” Jude left me. I could see it in the sky-- she was gone. I could see something-- the spirit of the devil coming for me. I wish Jude could protect me, I wish something would protect me. I choked while searching in my jacket pockets for some comfort, but I found nothing but empty space. A minute later another shot rang out, but all I could hear was the one spilling down my back. Oh, Hey, Jude. Such a lovely song.