Someone I know wrote a story but didn't proof read or edit it, can you help?
Warsaw, 2021. It's like the virus was always here. Hard glances, hurried shuffles and arms length between alienated bodies. Pandemic seemed the natural rhythm of the populace. I needed something to stop the voices so I settled for the oldest elixir served at a back ally pub with a hard wooden door called "The Raw Beef" according to my translation. I almost didn't expect it to be open and when it was, I still didn't see the point of it. Was just one lone man sitting at the bar and the barkeep sitting far away from the taps staring at his phone. I sat a few stools down from the man at the bar.
"vodka double no ice" I ordered. The barkeep seemed delighted I wandered in from the minute I came through the door
"Hey brother, you are in the right place" said the man at the bar. He looked pale and puffy. His lips curled outwards, a bright red hue. He looked quite local but could tell he had done some travelling. My drink was half inhaled before I responded.
"Yeah, why is that?"
"Because I can tell you aren't a normie and this isn't a normie bar"
"excuse me?" I asked, assuming there was something lost in his translation
"This isn't a bar for normal people. You know, normal people who just go to work, go home, fall asleep and that stuff"
"oh yeah?" I stared at the rest of my drink, then back at the man. He seemed lonely and weird but confident and somewhat content in his situation. I could tell he was actually serious. "What else would you say makes a normie?" I paused while he thought then volunteered. "Normie's probably tend to obey the law"
"yes, of course" said the man. "I've been to prison several times in America. Always put there by normies. Always set up and treated unfairly and railroaded."
"yes, normies will do that to people they consider to be "other" I said diplomatically before ordering another round for both of us.
"They will put you in a box just to make you lash out. They did not like me in America because I am pollack. They were jealous of my grafik desien skills. Now here women try to keep me out of the industry because of their jealously but I still manage"
"That's fucked up" I said "what did they do to you in America because you were a pollack? Those filthy american pigs are the biggest scum in the world" I knew I had to keep volunteering resentment to keep him going
"They set me up with a beautiful girl"
"what?"
"They found this beautiful girl I was talking to and when I tried to meet her they arrested me"
"what? they used a girl to set you up? Those bastards"
"yes brother they tricked me and when I went to the aquarium they arrested me." I could tell he was getting drunker and his tongue was slipping.
"bastards. They will do anything to get their enemies"
"they tricked me with the most beautiful girl ever and said she was 12. I couldn't stop thinking about her. They trapped me then charged me"
I gulped. I couldn't miss a beat. "Another Two!" I called out "Those pieces of shit. Things are so much better over here"
"Yes they are. Over here our government doesn't get involved between men and girls. They let men do as they will."
"fuckin right brother, way it should be"
"This fucking anna spysz tho..."
"who?"
"she thinks she can make grafik desine. Now she tries music, she just wants to live in a mans world"
"brother, it will always be a mans world no matter what these feminists try"
"fucking right my brother"
"Good men like us will inherit it from the normies"
"You must be a pollack I like you"
"I like you too brother, I want you to meet someone, she needs a good man like you"
"oh?" he said, eyelids droopy and red from alcohol they still perked right up. "who is it?"
"My neice is here with me, she's very smart. Wise beyond her years"
"how many years?" he asked salivating
"13 brother, she's plenty ready for a good pollack man like you"
"lets go brother I'm ready" he couldn't contain his excitement. "I'll pay, I got you." He hopped up and seemed 2 feet taller. Smiling from ear to ear with a nervous anticipation. He walked unsteadily, the liquor clearly calling the shots. He was light on his feet and almost effeminate in his stance waiting for me to get up. I was feeling the alcohol but feeling the anger more strongly. I had done well but wished I was better prepared. We walked out the door into the alley. I had one chance.
"It's over this way" He turned, I hesitated. Walked a few feet while he babbled about something I couldn't hear.
"Do you have a lighter?"
"yes brother" he searched through his pockets. I reeled back and landed my right fist on his cheek. The alcohol pushed me forward, the fist colliding with his cheek and the force propelling me forward as the force propelled up backward. My fist on his jaw made the sound of a board hitting a lake and echoed against the cobblestone street and side of the brick buildings in the alley. My movement carried me forward as his stumble carried him back. His reflexes weren’t bad, as drunk as he was and doughy as he looked, he reflexively caught himself right before I kicked out his left leg and he fell on the street with a thud. I knew I couldn’t hesitate, he had been in enough fights to have muscle memory that would power through the inebriation. I stamped on his chin and bounced his melon against the curb. This dazed him to the point I could see his eyes rolling back. Another well placed kick and that might be it for him. Soft head. Soft face. Soft body. Soft brain. No wonder he had to prey on things that were more fragile than him and that meant kids. Not anymore.
I had enough of a moment to get to my knife. 6 inch hunting knife I had gotten at a duty free shop. No matter what was to transpire I was certainly hoping to leave the alley with it. I looked down at him, barely conscious, sputtering profanities and proclamations of surprise, “What the fucks” and whatnot. Knife in the left, he met my right again, keeping my blows on the left side of his face that was already starting to swell.
“How badly do you want to live?”
“What the fuck…why?”
“I don’t know why you would want to live”
“Badly. I want to live badly”
“Ok.” I stepped on his chest and let my weight off the other foot. He gasped and turned even pinker. His arms flailed but quickly covered her face, anticipating more blows. “Now we are going to see how badly.” I unzipped my fly. His eyes went to my fly and the big knife in my hand.
“You’re a wariat.”
“What did you say.” I glared quickly. Keeping him alive wasn’t worth hearing a polish insult directed at me.
“It’s a good thing. It means madman in Polish. Wariat’s are respected”
“How are pedophiles respected?”
“Well Roman Polanski—“ I cut him off with a kick to the ribs. Easiest bones to break from a standing position with big boots on. They felt heavier when I let my weight carry them. Like wrecking balls against glass.
“Shut the fuck up. You’re going to suck…” I landed a left on the other cheek now, not chancing a second wind, “like your worthless life depends on it.” I stood straddled over him and dropped my chubby hog so it was dangling over his bloody, swollen head. “Because it does.”
I looked him right in the eyes. All that greeted me was fear, confusion and self preservation. I had no doubt he was up to the task. He paused, getting him bearings. I couldn’t allow that. I dropped a knee to the nose “Come on now,” I said and grabbed him by the right ear with the blade in my left. “Lets see you do it with no hands.”
I watched him prop to a sitting position then attach himself to my member. I felt myself instantly grow inside his mouth and a gurgling cough bellow from his esophagus that just put me more in the moment. His technique was far from amateur. His head bobbed as I guided him harshly with his ear, twisting it on purpose to ensure he didn’t falter in his task. The blood and alcohol sweat permeating from his pores made his mouth a lagoon of base fluids. He coughed and choked at all the right times. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction though. I couldn’t afford to get weak at the knees either. I took myself out and slapped my hard cock against his pulverized left cheek. He winced in pain and looked up at me. “Was I good?” He asked.
“Yes you were very good” I smiled, still with my cock out. I kneeled down to his level. His fellatio had given him more confidence in the situation. His arms were still behind him, keeping him propped up and steady. I had made him subservient but I was still worried of fight or flight responses. I looked him in the eyes. “Those lips of yours sure are a treat. Now what is your name?”
He looked back at me, clearly dazed and out of his mind. Confusion seemed to be guiding him. Probably guided most things he had done and things like video games and gay porn, with their finite and simplistic worlds and parameters would make more sense to him. “Mike” he said.
I stiffened up. “Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s Maciej.”
My smile grew larger until it ground my teeth together in a “My name’s Roger” as I plunged the knife into the side of his neck and snuffed his miserable life from this plane of existence.
