Work Shift ver. 2

It's a fucking shame man, that's what it is. All that good alcohol ending up on the streets. But that's two drinks Tommy for you. A fucking shame.

"Jim, I'm sorry Jim. Shouldn't have had that last tequila. That's what messed me up. Bad tequila." I'm surprised he manages to get all the words out before the tequila starts kicking his pudgy little ass again.

I take a step back to avoid the splatter. "No worries Tommy." It's my usual line when it comes to him.

"Tom," he slurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. All that does is plaster specks of brown chunks all over his ballooned up cheeks. "The name's Tom."

"Yea, yea. Tom." I'm barely paying attention to the guy, my eyes stuck on a duo exiting the bar. A redhead and a blond, short skirts and bare midriffs. Young. "I don't wanna go home! It's not even late!" Blond had too much of a good time it seems. Red tries to get her to be quiet as she leads her to their car, but blondie ain't having none of it. "Don't hush me, I'm the one that brought you here. And now you want me to leave?" She suddenly caught sight of me and waved. Bracelets crash against each other and almost drown out her voice. "Hey! You're cute, doing anything?" Red gets her into the car before I have a chance to answer. I think about making my way to the two and having a chat. Just a chat, nothing more. Honest. But just as I'm contemplating a good line to come through Tommy throws up on me.

"The fuck!" I shove him to the ground and he goes down with a sob. I can hear Blondie laughing from inside her car and suddenly I want to make it explode. Betcha I could too. But Red's look softens me up. Kindred spirits her and I, both having to babysit drunks. 'cept hers aint gone soft in the head like mine has.

"Didn't mean to Jimbo. Honest." The sad sack is actually crying. Damn it all to hell.

"Here, get up now. Didn't like this pants nohow." He takes my hand, and I'm surprised by how strong his grip is. Dunno why, surprised that is. Guess it's just easy to forget sometimes. I'm reminded now as I look at his hands. Large and ape like, his hand is almost the size of a small child's head with calluses running all across his knuckles. I think I spot a dab of dried up blood. No surprise there, his shift ended just a bit a go.

"I think I should go away."

Now, what the hell am I suppose to say here? Damn right Tommy should go away. Would do him a world of good. Every day it becomes harder and harder for me to remember the man I met so many years ago. In his prime, Tommy was…fuck, Tommy was motherfuckin' Tom. Best and brightest of us all, able to put in twice the amount of hours than anyone else and still have that aww-shucks-I'm-just-from-the-country smile when he walked into the bar at the end of his shift. That smile was a legend, nabbing him chick a dils from all corners. Grateful civilians, women from our side, and even some from theirs.

Sometimes he still tried that smile. It's then when it's the hardest to be his friend. Mainly cause I want to burn his face off.

Might be thinking I'm not much of a friend with that sort of admission. Thing is, I'm probably the last friend he got. Most of the others won't look at him anymore. They would be too chicken shit to admit it, but they stay away because Tommy's a reminder of what happens if we stay too long in the game. Too many punches and you might end up like old Tommy I heard them say.

"Here we go." Propping him up against the wall, I loosen his tie and clean him up best as I can. His head rolls side as I do so, reminding him of a doll with all its joints loose. "Stay still you hear? Pants I might not have cared about, but I do fancy this shirt." He nods.

"Think I should go away?"

I look at him. Really look at him. How old must he be? His hair is thinning more so every day, and as if in direct relations, his second chin grows bigger. His eyes are glazed over, and I wish I could say its all due to the drinking.

"Nah Tommy, you still got a few good years left."

"Thanks Jimmy, really. You always tell it straight don't you?"

"That I do, that I do." I lean against the wall and search for a cig. I can make out some of the sounds from the inside of the bar and I wish I was there. I don't know what I want more right now a drink or a fuck. No wait, scratch that. I want a damn cigarette. Can't believe I got none.

We both freeze when we hear the sirens. They cry out to the streets, like a mother crying out for her child. More sirens, all heading to the same direction. Means something big is up.

"I should go."

I could stop him. Could tell him he already put in his hours, let someone else worry about this. But I don't, cause Tommy needs this. Needs to feel like he's still able to do something.

He's still fast. Not as fast as a speeding..well, you know the rest of that phrase, but still fast. I watch him rise to the clouds and fly towards the sirens, their screams calling out to him.

"Luck Tom," I finally find a cig in my back pocket. I let a flame dance on the tips of two of my fingers and take a long drag. Best enjoy this, my shift will start soon.

Then it's off to save the world.

Been a productive few days. I actually have been working on my normal novel and so far I like what I have. I ended up posting the story that grew out of the prompt on a forum and didn't get much critiques, but the ones I did get were along the line of what I was thinking. I really liked the idea I came up with, even though to be fair it's not THAT original, so I figured I would try to rewrite it, this time without the shackles of a prompt. I actually really like what I came up with, and I think Tom and the James are more fleshed out. In my head, James is British, pretty clear the inspiration for that was Spike from Buffy, while Tom is a Superman analogue, except his obviously a much sadder version. I originally wanted to make him almost mentally challenge, like Lenny from Of Mice and Men(which by the way is a great story I should reread sometime soon) I don't know if I went far enough with it, or if I should.

I also wanted to try something new. Both in the forum that I posted the original story, along with my creative writing teacher mentioned how a lot of writers are moving away from the whole "she said/said/exclaimed" kinda thing, so I wanted to try writing something that did away with that. Along with that, I wanted to try to write something in present tense, as it's the tense I least work with. Woo, who knows, maybe sometime soon I'm try writing something not in the comic/fantasy/horror/noir theme. Or even gasp something that isn't in first person.