Fiction
Blackoutby Richie Narvaez
The gentleman’s mouth was wired almost completely shut. Also, he had some bruises about his face and neck. One wrist was in a cast. I made a mental note of these as I endeavored to decipher what he was saying.
“My friend Bob was heartbroken over his girl, Jeannie,” he said. “Big, knockdown, drag-out, breakup fight, know what I mean? So we decided to go out and get blotto.”
“What was that?” I said.
“Blotto. You know: drunk.”
I did in fact know what “blotto” meant, but I had not been able to understand the word that had come out of his clenched mouth.
“So, we decided on this club we like called Rvota.”
I asked the gentleman to spell that.
“R-V-O-T-A. It’s Russian.”
“What was the date?”
“Saturday before last.”
“Go on,” I told him.
“We ordered a b
