The Race Home(short story-page 5)

 

          I had limitless hours since work was hard to find those days, just wasn’t any jobs in the early 80s, and the measly $200 every two weeks was a joke trying to survive. I did entertain myself with partying and drinking and hooking up with gorgeous women for whom found me interesting and mutually attractive as well. My youth was wasted on the abject moment of now and I was never concerned with the future, life already bogged me down with death, lost my best friend and dad within one year, so I desperately attempted to drink and party my sorrows away for at least another day. I met several beautiful gals that I’d should’ve never pushed away but I was a lost soul wandering in a godless debauchery. I look back upon my degeneracy with no compunction of remorse or guilt, we only live once in this gifted life and why waste youth in prayer and shame when life gives so much of earthly pleasures? 

          I often went to a bar well out of town called the Cabin Inn. This huge bar was a marvel in architecture, it was an old log cabin that served as the Fish and Game club once that unbelievably my dad owned and ran for years, my dad if he was sober was the greatest skeet shooter in the state. When I was young I watched dad win tournament after tournament even once when some old bar fly tried to take advantage of my dad when he was loaded and really too drunk to even stand up much less hold a gun and aim it at thrown objects in the air. But, I somehow was drawn into this contest of marksmanship and I was the one who threw little old coke-cola bottles up in the air, while my inebriated dad blew them to kingdom come, the man took advantage of the wrong sop, dad gave me twenty bucks from this gambit. 

         The Cabin Inn now introduced the greatest Rock and Roll bands in the state, and the price of admission was your ticket to hours of hard Rock and Roll, the ambience and music in that log-filled hall echoed all over those hills and hollers, the bar itself was over 100 feet long with every whiskey bottle label ever made embossed in an inch of polyurethane lacquer that was a phenomenon to even gaze at much less drink a shot bourbon off of; one great eccentric bar that satisfied many Rock and Roll enthusiasts.