Jill's Damn Diary

1. An Unusual Encounter

OUTDOORS / EVENING

Today, having absolutely nothing better to do, I decided to take a stroll through the city park. All by my lonesome... poor me! Nana's off with her parents (and Lenny, obviously) at some resort, while Sue, Al, and Ed are busy prepping for a massive rager. It's to celebrate our recent victory over the mafia—a joint effort between Susie's relatives, my grandma's team, and Alvin's crew. Wonder what kind of chaos they're cooking up... Grandma's definitely gonna cut loose at this party. I'd almost pay to see her and Ed together. Speaking of Ed, he actually benched her from the planning phase; looks like the old hag is in for a surprise. Nana and Lenny should be back by then, so they're on the guest list too.

So, there I am, wandering the trails in the evening twilight... You're probably thinking a maniac's about to pounce on me from the bushes, right? Keep dreaming! Even if there were two of them, I'd take 'em down in a heartbeat—shoutout to my basic training and that "hyper-confidence born of pure terror" thing I have going on.

Suddenly, I hear a creak, like a centuries-old door slowly swinging open in a draft... and then a thud—like someone just ate pavement. Hard. What followed was a muffled but incredibly pissed-off stream of profanity: "Fk... sht... mthrfkr... fkn awesome..."

It's been a while since my ears bled like that. Who is it, I wonder? Probably someone playing another prank on our local park hobo... Hmm, no, this "hobo" sounded way too young. Besides, our regular guy is used to ambushes; you can't rattle him.

I peeked around the side of a nearby porta-potty. And I couldn't help but wince at the "masterpiece" before me: sprawled flat on the ground by the open door was some guy. Toilet paper stuck to his shoe, body fully submerged in a flowerbed overgrown with dandelions and burrs... like something out of a depressing comedy.

Yikes. Realizing someone was hovering over him, the unlucky soul decided to rise from the weeds. A face crumpled by the grass looked up at me with an expression that suggested I was the one who just tumbled out of the shtter, not him. Taking the chance, I got a better look: burr imprints and a thick layer of yellow pollen on a hungover face, a "seen-it-all" vibe, a head shaved nearly to the bone, and eyes that still held the ghost of cigarette smoke and a hint of last night's binge in some dive bar.

"The hell are you staring at?" the stranger asked, sounding dead inside and clearly done with my silent curiosity.

"Huh?.." I was a bit caught off guard. I hadn't expected him to actually react. "Got a problem? Yeah, I'm staring. So what?"

My question seemed to genuinely baffle him. He went into deep thought, processing the sheer audacity of my answer. After a moment's reflection, he reached back into the porta-potty as if nothing had happened. For a second, I thought he had unfinished business in there, but he just pulled out a bottle of beer.

"Into the brewskis, are we? Isn't it a bit early?" I poked at him, instead of just walking away and forgetting he existed thirty minutes later.

"This is called booze, kid. It's early for you; it's just right for me."

"Heh. What are you even doing hanging around here at this hour?"

"I had to take a sh*t! What else do you do in a toilet?!"

I didn't even have a comeback for that.

"Wow, you're a real prick, aren't you? You're talking to a lady!"

"Ladies stay away from drunks."

"They stay wherever they damn well please!"

"...and they're home by eleven, not loitering in the park."

"Oh... well, at least I'm not an alcoholic! Unlike some people."

"Kid, why are you lecturing me? You wander where you want, I drink when I want. You show up out of nowhere and start f**king with me. For what?"

"Ugh, whatever, go fall in a hole for all I care. Like I give a damn. Here I am, actually showing an interest in your life, thinking maybe I could help, and you're just being an asshole for no reason. And since I'm not a 'lady' in your eyes anymore—we're going wherever you're drinking, and we'll see who's respectable and who's not!!!"

God, I really said that. What was I thinking?..

"I... I don't get it," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"What's there to get? Brain's a bit fried after last night, huh?" I kept pushing.

"Listen, you! Keep acting up and I'll show you..."

"Go ahead, tell me. What are you gonna do? Twist my arm? Kick me? Punch me in the face—you'd love that, wouldn't you?! You want to hit a small, fragile girl?! Fine, go for it! Come on! You're real good at that, I bet! But are you 'man' enough to quit drinking? You 'man' enough to punch a park ranger, for instance? Of course, it's easier to wail on me, 'cause I can't hit back, right? Well, go on then, do it! I'm right here!" I was totally baiting him.

He turned away, refusing to continue the argument. I won! Honestly, fighting me was a lost cause anyway, especially in his state. I'm not the world's greatest fighter, but I would've worn him out in two seconds.

"What, silent now? Think before you talk trash next time. So, are we going, or are you staying here to enjoy the 'aroma' of the porta-potty?"

"Did I ever ask you to come?" He "sort-of-spat," trying to sound as casual as possible. "This place isn't for 'good girls'."

Aha, a pathetic attempt to mask concern with toughness. It's not like he's my mom.

"I'm tagging along. Being a 'good girl' isn't really my thing anyway."

He actually choked on his beer. He coughed hard.

"Are you mental?! What, you wanna go dance the can-can on a bar top and then get passed around?"

"I wouldn't mind a bar top," I said, challenging every dive bar in existence—and myself, mostly.

"They only let regulars in there. I practically live there. You wanna move in too? Get wasted every day and wake up in some shtter with a storm in your skull?"

"Whoa..." I stared at him, wide-eyed. "Now I get what that thud was. You just woke up, didn't you?"

"Something like that. Do you know where to buy pickle juice? My head is killing me... I heard they sell an instant version somewhere."

"Does it even work?"

"Haven't tried it. Today is... exceptionally crappy."

"So, you're going back for more booze then?.."

"Well, yeah," the dedicated alcoholic replied proudly.

"Where do you live? Does anyone at home ever wonder where you are?"

"No. You think they remember they have a son? They're probably passed out in a drunken stupor themselves."

"Rough life. You want to end up just like your parents?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about them. I've got my own life."

"Fine... So, are we going or what?"

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, hoping to shake me off.

"I'm sure."

"Look, you followed me on your own. If anyone asks—I don't know you."

"Oh, look at you! What, you scared?" I teased.

"Who's scared?! Me??? Who do you think you're talking to?!! I'll rip anyone to shreds!!!"

"That's more like it! Let's go."

My reaction seemed to either embarrass or surprise him. He'd blurted it out without thinking, and now he'd basically signed up to be my protector—he was well and truly stuck with me. It was pretty funny, though—heading off to hang with a drunk from a porta-potty without even asking his name. And I didn't introduce myself either. What a ditz.

It had been a long time since I'd hung out with anyone. This was shaping up to be one of the most boring breaks on record. I was so bored, I didn't even stop to think about the lecture I'd get from Grandma in the morning when she ran into a hungover creature crawling back home.