"Angry Jessie"
“I haven't been able to do a fucking
thing all day!” yelled Jessie. He had been sitting at his desk
since early morning, trying to connect through the Internet. It was
now getting dark again.
Jessie had no choice but to pick up the phone and find someone to talk to. He had someone on the line... someone who didn't mind him ranting and raving about stuff.
“If there's no reason for anything than I don't even know why I bother!” Jessie was one step away from falling into a deep depression. He knew it, and writing as all he had. It was weaving words that made him hold on. “I've got to do something.”
Jessie didn't even give the person on the other line the courtesy of letting him know he was hanging up. Jessie just held down the power button firmly until it shut down and he gave it a nice definite throw across the room, shattering his mom's candy jar.
“good.” Jessie said to himself.
It felt good to know that he caused that. There was a connection there, that satisfied him. Jessie didn't hesitate. He turned around, grabbed his keys and walked out the door.
He walked in the direction of his car and said, “fuck it,” and walked right past it out into the neighborhood. Walking it off was the only thing he could do to feel better.
It wasn't just the walk. It had to serve a purpose. He was going to walk to the beer store and get himself something that would set his mind at ease. Something that could relax his body and make him chill out.
It was getting dark.
Jessie walked. The street was wide and in a farm area, it would have been a main street. There were hardly any cars on it, only before and after school were people being stupid, hogging up lanes or parked wrong causing jams. Other times, it was the train crossing.
Jessie was taking big steps. It was assurance that he was here and walking. His presence was as sure and real as anything and intimidating. It was something he used to put to use when he was working the door at the bars only a few years ago. Now, it was wasted behind a computer at home, trying to make a little bit of income for writing.
Jessie wanted to yell out, but suddenly felt it would be embarrassing and he wouldn't have any way to retaliate. He'd have to do it near someone, so that a fight would be almost guaranteed to start. Jessie was sure of this... since he would be the one to start it.
He had already cleared a block and came up to an intersection at a red light. The beer store was just half a mile away. He felt like he wanted to keep walking, if there weren't any cars bearing down on him. If they were too slow and timid coming down the road, he would just walk out into the middle of the street. Everyone could fucking wait.
In his 30's, Jessie realized that the clock was ticking. He hadn't completely had all of the fun in his life just yet, and felt that this writing thing was just a minor set back before he had something he could market. Something finished that he could push. Then, he could have his fun again. He felt that too many people talked about being writers and that's all it was... just a bunch of bullshit. It would be he that would come out with something he could show.
Jessie imagined him walking into some place where a naysayer or other chump would be sitting and he would just chuck a book at him, “there it is fucker. There's the thing you said would never happen.” That image was the one he wanted to see come true. It had played over and over again in his head and each time, the book was bigger and bigger. “Fuck the paperback, I'm going for hardcover!” Jessie thought to himself. Jessie hoped the book was big enough to lay the putz out. Send the guy to the hospital on a stretcher with the book in his arms.
He could see the store as he was coming up to it. Jessie was feeling a bit better. It was the walk and the thought he had of what he was going to get. He thought about that ghetto juice they're always pushing in these places. Some of the worst swill you've ever had. He could change it up with different flavors and get extra lit or he could go with the traditional skunk or lager beer.
He thought about the bars he used to work at. Everyone in the industry was always trying something new. Some new brewery would open up with a new Belgium ale, some bitter beer or something interesting. If they weren't trying it with the rep, they were out visiting their friend's bars to try something new with them. Getting drunk and talking shit. They all seemed to stand by each other and liked each others' bull shit. It was that industry relationship that seemed legit.
There were the lights. Jessie came up to the door and pulled the handle but the door didn't budge. That's when he realized... it was Sunday. “FUCK!”