Guys will do anything but go to therapy. [Pt 2]

"YO CHILL! CHILL!"

Marcus is scooped up by the collar of his shirt, lifted off his feet and pressed against the wall of the bar. The recent rain has the walls outside all slimy, so he slides up rather easily. That or Derrick is just so fucking strong.

Derrick is seething as if it isn't Rat that just cold-cocked him in the jaw.

"Derrick, that's your name, right? Derrick, look, he wasn't thinking. He didn't mean to actually start something."

..."A LITTLE FUCKING HELP HERE, MAYBE?" I ask Rat with impatience. This guy is twice the size of all of us. Shit, three times the size of Rat.

"Derrick, let him go man. This is between us."

"Nah this motherfucker wants to involve himself in our business? I don't know this piece of shit and he gets me punched? Fuck you by the way, Rat."

Spit is flying all over the place, centralizing on the skin of Marcus. I mean...it's not like I don't understand his frustration.

Derrick throws Marcus to the ground and towers over him.

"Give him the money."

"wha--wha"

"GIVE HIM THE FUCKING MONEY. He did what you asked him to do."

Marcus scrambles to his feet with his eyes wide and full of horror. He rifles through his pockets and hands them three hundred dollars.

"What...is this interest? Or my cut for pain and suffering?"

Marcus doesn't mean to hand him the extra hundred...but he also would never dream of asking for it back after all of this.

Derrick walks over to Rat and hands him $200. Well, he holds it out for him to grab. Rat is still apprehensive. He reaches for it and Derrick closes his bear-like paw around the two hundred right before Rat can take it.

"Hit me like that again and I swear to God I will punch you in the chest so hard your shoulders will touch."

He presses the $200 into Rat's chest and shoves him away, watching the money fall to the ground and land in a puddle.

"Aw man..." Rat sighs as he picks up the money, attempting to wick off the liquid as best as he can.

"Yo look, I really am sorry. Just drunk dude shit, you know? Boys will be boys," I try to explain the situation away.

"It ain't the first time this lil pipsqueak has punched me in the mouth. Probably won't be the last. But he's like my little brother."

Marcus and I exchange quizzical looks. Derrick is at least 6'7", 300, black. Rat's maybe 5'1" on a good day, white, with blonde dreadlocks weighing 110. And his dreads are probably half that weight. They couldn't be more opposite.

"Sometimes I gotta reel his crazy ass in, but if he's gonna lash out at me, he at least better keep getting paid for it," Derrick explains.

"Me next."

A voice comes from behind us. I guess in the frenzy we haven't heard him come out. It is the man who shared his cigarettes with Marcus. The miserable one.

"I don---I don't have any more money to give," Marcus stammers, clearly still shaken up.

"I don't care about the money. Just fucking hit me."

Oh, he is talking to Rat. Oh god I HOPE he is talking to Rat.

Rat stuffs his soggy $200 in his pocket. "You're asking me to hit you?"

"Please. I just need to feel something."

"Brother. Therapy," I interject.

"I'm not just going to punch you dude. I don't even know you. You could have a shank on you or some shit."

Derrick walks up to the down-trodden man instead...while he dwarfs us, he isn't so far off from Derrick's stature. Derrick pats him down like he's done it before. He backs away from him, massages his jaw still aching from before, and speaks.

"Nah Rat, I think he's good."

"You WANT me to punch him?"

"I don't want to be the only motherfucker getting hit tonight if I don't gotta be."

"Dude what the fuck is going on?" I ask Marcus under my breath. He's still shell-shocked. He's gone through his own personal Vietnam and all that happened is he got punked a little bit. His eyes are still looking straight forward, irises entirely visible with extra sclera around them to spare. He's useless right now.

"Look, I've been cucked by my wife, she took the fuckin' dog, my hours just got cut at work, my fucking WORK BOOTS NEED NEW SOLES, I LIVE IN A SHITTY FUCKING APARTMENT SURROUNDED BY SHITTY FUCKING NEIGHBORS AND I'M GOING NUMB AND I NEED TO FEEL SOMETH---"

BAM.

...Derrick takes the initiative. God damn.

As bad as his life is...it just got a little worse. The man spins around, tooth flying in the wind, and hits the concrete face first.

"Ha. Haha. ......aHAAHAHAHAHAHA," the man begins cackling on the ground in absolute hysterics.

Rat, Derrick, Marcus, and myself trade glances at one another.

What a weird fucking night.

As he lies there dying of laughter, Rat goes and fetches his tooth.

-to be continued-