Sometimes we need a vacation to get away from it all.
Unfortunately in the Gutter, not only do you have to take you with you, but the flights are usually a one way trip to Hell. Oh, and you get saddled with the middle seat, too.
Unfortunately in the Gutter, not only do you have to take you with you, but the flights are usually a one way trip to Hell. Oh, and you get saddled with the middle seat, too.
Sunny California by Joseph H. Stryker
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On the television: cops with hip haircuts and clever
comebacks solved crime. On my phone: empty emails and tempting texts tried to
sell me shit I didn’t need. Outside: the rain kept pouring.
This was my vacation. I planned for this. A relaxing week in
Laguna Beach. I made reservations in advance. Always wanted to see Southern
California and the Pacific Ocean.
I needed a break from work. Needed a break from having to
see that fuckhead paralegal who married my ex-wife. So I took it, wasn’t gonna
let a few weather reports ruin my trip.
The storm started before I landed at LAX and never let up.
Fucker followed me down the coast. Felt like God was pissing on me. The locals,
on the other hand, loved it. Said the drought was real bad and every drop
helped. Maybe it was true, I didn’t care.
I was going stir crazy. Had to get out and clear my head.
Damn God, and damn the weather.
I grabbed my belt and left. The hallway’s walls outside my
room were lined with watercolor paintings of Laguna when it was sunny. Stepping
out of the hotel I took a deep breath. The air smelt of saltwater and sewage.
The view probably would have been nice if it wasn’t for the
fog and the clouds, which kept me from seeing further than my own dick. From
pictures I saw online, Laguna was a beautiful beach town surrounded by sharp
cliffs and rolling hills.
The place I was staying at, unoriginally
called La Posada, sat beneath some rather ominous looking mansions clinging to
the hill above. I don’t know what idiot first thought building a house on the
edge of an eroding canyon wall was a good idea, but plenty of pricks copied
him.
After trying to figure out which road would take me to the
beach, I located a wooden staircase with specs of sand atop it. Halfway down
them my sneakers were soaked. I endured the slish-slosh
of my steps until I reached the bottom, where I took off my shoes and socks.
The sand beneath my feet was muddy and foul.
Beyond the fog you could hear waves crashing. My whole body
was wet at that point. I pulled off my shirt and immediately regretted the
decision.
A couple feet away, under the cliffs, I found a comfortable
rock to sit on. Fortunately it was shielded from the rain. As I waited for the
clouds to break, I saw a real weird looking fucker.
Pale as an Irishman’s ass with nasty brown dreadlocks and
the body of a holocaust survivor. The only thing he was wearing were green swim
trunks with a yellow alligator design on them. I glared at him. He just smiled
and waved, then walked past me.
Finally, God was done pissing.
I grabbed my wet clothes and headed back up the stairs.
Halfway up I noticed a sign advertising beach showers. Didn’t wanna trudge a
bunch of sand with me back to my room.
They were four posts with some pipes and showerheads built
into the wood. Leaning against them was that weird fucker. “Taking a shower?”
he asked with a smirk, his teeth brown, yellow, and every shade of ugly.
“Yeah. Mind stepping out of the way?”
“I’m not in your way, dude.”
“You are. Step out of the way, dude.”
“Dude?” He gave a fake laugh and started scratching his
neck. “You making fun of me?
“If I was making fun of you I wouldn’t be subtle about it.”
“So you think you’re better than me. That it? Middle-aged
man thinks he’s hot shit. Thinks he’s cooler than Elliot the Alligator.”
I gave a real laugh. “Okay, you’ve clearly got problems.” I
turned my back on him and went towards the hotel. Then I felt a fist hit the
right side of my ribs. I winced, spun around, and grabbed Elliot by his dreads.
He waved his arms around trying to get at me.
I flung him into the wooden post that held the showers.
His spine hit it and he made a hissing noise. Then he charged,
head first, for my stomach, and knocked the wind out of me. We toppled to the
ground and his fists found my eye sockets. My vision went blurry and I was
running the risk of passing out. He wasn’t letting up. My knee shot up and
found his crotch. The fists stopped and he fell off me.
I got up and tried to gather my bearings. Behind me, I could
hear he was doing the same thing. I could barely see, could hardly breathe, and
I didn’t know how far this asshole was willing to go. The only thing running
through my mind was my daughter growing up without a father. I decided to end this. I pulled off my belt
and walked behind Elliot.
My vision coming back, I could see he was cupping his balls
in one hand and using the other to prop himself up. His last words were a
mumbled curse.
I slung the belt around his neck and tightened it. His hands
moved up. Too late. I pulled until he stopped moving. His final act of defiance
was pissing on me. Maybe he wasn’t in control of that.
Then the rains returned, this time with thunder. I panicked.
Ended up dragging his body down beneath the cliffs I had used for shelter.
People were talking about that house so much no one had time to worry about some cliffs by the beach. There were hills coming down all around town. What’s one more in the grand scheme of things?
