He blew his mind out in a bar...
527 words, 3 minutes read time.
“Oh, come now, Bill. You don’t believe that. You don’t believe in suicide.”
“Mel, I don’t know what to believe anymore. But, wait! I do believe in one thing. I believe that I love these peanuts!”
I’ve been shelling one peanut after another for some time now. Who knows how many I’ve cracked, opened, palmed, popped into my mouth, and washed down with a sip of beer. It must be my twelfth by now.
Not that I’m counting, but it had to have been about that many. Probably a couple more. And then there were those three or four Hennessys. I had drunk all of that since three this afternoon.
Now it’s coming up on nine. I can see the lights of the parking lot outside, and headlights as they comb across the bar’s high-frosted windows.
These salty peanut kernels I’ve been popping into my mouth must now officially constitute as being my dinner.
Thinking of that, I suddenly feel full. I feel very full! My tummy is tight from all those peanuts and so much beer. It’s all pressing against my bladder, and now I have to pee… I really must pee soon!
Sliding my butt over the split barstool seat where it’s been mostly idle for the past six hours, I probe for and hook the chair’s foot rung with the crook of my right boot heel. I drop my other foot to the floor, step away with the ball of that same foot, and press off from the bar towards the restroom.
I managed all of this without a thought, then realized that the confident balance I held on top of the barstool failed to descend and resisted walking along with me. At that same moment, I realized there was a line at the men’s room door.
No way could I wait for that to clear! Fortunately, I knew an alternate route. The path to the dumpster was quick, clear, and convenient. I changed my trajectory and angled towards the front door.
In my haste, I felt the crunch of debris at my feet, the crack of broken and breaking shells. I felt the slick swiftness of peanut dust and broken crumbs. All of it due to my careless discarding of waste now resting beneath my stool.
I pivoted towards the door, but the heel of my boot skidded on some of that fallen peanut debris. Falling back, I tried to catch myself on my other boot, but it slipped away, too. My knees raced up. I lost contact with the floor. My feet raced to the air, I was ready to land on my ass. Or so I thought, but…
The back of my head, the bone above the nape of my neck, at the base of my skull. That critical part! It smacked onto the edge of the bar near where I’d been sitting. For the fraction of that second, I imagined a cloud of peanut dust and debris rising around me like a cartoon. I did not sense myself collapsing to the floor, or feel wetting myself.
Everything stopped. Thought ceased!
>>> More to come…
*Lennon-McCartney (A Day In The Life)
~dalton
4/14/26
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