Always a Mess

 

By Shotzette

PG-13

 

Part of the "Always" Universe

 

This is only a work of fan fiction and is not intended to infringe upon anyone’s copyrights or intellectual properties.  Really.

 

 

 

The night air was heavy and the darkness was silent.  The only sounds Laverne could hear were she and Lenny’s footsteps on the pavement as they walked back to Laurel Vista.  Burbank, even for it’s close proximity to Los Angeles, was nothing more than a sleepy suburb.  Laverne had never remembered the Sunday nights in east Milwaukee being this silent, Knapp Street never so deserted.  Despite the daytime smiling faces, she never felt as safe in California as she did her old, tough neighborhood in Milwaukee.  She would never have hesitated to walk ten blocks in any direction from her apartment back in Wisconsin.   Yet, she thought, as she pressed herself tighter into the encircling warmth of Lenny’s arm, she wouldn’t have walked these two blocks on her own.  California, even after residing here for two years, was still a strange land to her.  Everything was a little too shiny and bright; the people were too willing to smile for no reason.  Laverne didn’t trust pretty anymore.  Then again, she reasoned as she appraised the man next to her, trust wasn’t her strong suit.  And there were better-more real-things than pretty out there.

 

Lenny looked down at her and smiled, once again giving her that eerie feeling that he didn’t need to hear her words to know what she was thinking.

 

If only the reverse was true, she mused.  Lenny was still Lenny, on the surface.  Look a little closer, as she’d been doing the past two weeks, and there was a whole other man inside the man she’d thought she’d known most of her life.  Lenny was smarter than she’d ever given him credit for being-and more damaged.  She knew life hadn’t been fair to him-as if it was fair to anyone-but she never dreamed his goofy smile and seemingly half-witted bluster hid such pain and anger from the world.  The more she learned about him, the more she wondered how he was ever able to get out of bed each morning and greet each new day.

 

The thought of bed made her smirk.  Talk about hurt…  They were a fine pair, Laverne thought.  He hated himself for being with women he didn’t love; she hated herself for not being able to give it away.

 

The sensation of her foot catching on a particularly rough piece of asphalt yanked Laverne’s attention to the here and now.  “Len,” she whined, “hold up.”

 

He stopped obediently, looking at her like a blue-eyed puppy dog, faithful and gentle.  “You okay?”

 

Laverne grimaced as she look down and saw her stocking feet, runs and all, on the pavement.  She glanced at the high heels in her right hand, and almost instantly dismissed the thought of putting them on again for the remaining block.

 

She quickly glanced around.  “Is anyone coming?”

 

Lenny glanced about and then turned back to her, his jaw dropping as he saw her, half hidden behind the dumpster, pulling off her pantyhose.

 

“Laverne???”

 

“They’re shredded,” she said, as she chucked the suntan colored scraps of nylon in the dumpster.  “I was picking every pebble on the street.”  She grinned as his eyes traveled up her now nude legs, lingering on where the hem of her short skirt met her thighs. His eye caught hers and he blushed a furious shade of pink.

 

Laverne smiled a naughty smile and once again grasped his hand.  “Let’s hurry back,” she whispered.

 

The blue-eyed puppy dog nodded vigorously and picked up the pace.

 

 

 

 

Laverne’s apartment was dark when they stumbled through the front door.  She fumbled briefly with the light.  “You want a beer?” she asked over her shoulder as she made her way to the fridge.

 

“Yeah,” Lenny mumbled distractedly, “Whatever you got.”

 

Laverne returned to the living room holding two opened bottles of Shotz.  “Something on your mind?”

 

He shrugged as he relieved her of one of the beers.  “Yeah…it was sort of a weird night, wasn’t it?”

 

“Well, how often do we throw Shirley and Carmine a wedding dinner and have them tell us they’re moving to New York,” she said, unable to keep some bitterness out of her tone.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head.  “It’s what they think they need to do.  I don’t like it, but might be the right thing for them.  It’s not like I have any say in the matter, is it?”

 

Lenny kissed her briefly on her forehead.  “You’ll be okay, Vernie.  Rhonda’s next door, and Squig and I are upstairs, and …”

 

“I know.  I know it’s going to be okay.  Eventually.  It’s just going to be different, that’s all,” she said, settling into his arms.  The feeling of his lips against hers pushed the difficult thoughts away, as they always seemed to do.  She pressed herself against him, and was surprised to feel him step back.

 

Her eyes opened and her arms clutched for him out of instinct.  “Len?”

 

“Remember what we was talking about earlier?  I mean, before Shirley and Carmine came back from Vegas?”

 

“I remember what I was doing,” she said with a smile as she playfully ran her forefinger down his torso.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he said as he nimbly avoided her arms again.  “That.  We was fooling around…”

 

“I remember it well…” Laverne sidled up against him again, neatly pinning his lanky frame between the stair rail and her cleavage.

 

“And then I said we should probably stop…” Lenny continued as he stared a good ten inches below her eyes.

 

“Did you want to?”  Laverne’s whisper was barely audible to her own ears

 

“Well, no.  Not really.”

 

“Then why did we?  Except for Shirley and Carmine coming through the door?” she clarified.

 

“Maybe we should wait…” Lenny squeaked, his voice squeaking as she remembered it during his long adolescence.

 

“Waiting could be fun,” she said as she pressed against him, negating her words.

 

He groaned aloud.  “I mean… I think-- could you do that again?” He shuddered against her

 

Laverne grinned as her lips returned to the left side of his neck, teasing his flesh with flickers of her tongue.  God, he was even the right height for it…  She stepped neatly to his side, moving him backwards towards her staircase.

 

For once, Lenny’s innate clumsiness was nowhere to be found.  He walked backwards up the stairs with the surefootedness of a mountain goat, as his hands roamed Laverne’s back.  She groaned into his mouth as she felt his hand begin to unzip her slinky red dress.  She found his lips with hers, and began to tease him with her probing tongue.

 

The sound of him clicking off her light switch and the shrouding darkness made her growl in frustration.

 

“Am I hurting you?”  he whispered against her lips, his hands no longer touching her aggressively, but still on her in a protective way.

 

She pushed him away, and gasped for breath as she concentrated on choking back an angry sob.  When he turned on the lights again, she knew that she didn’t look good under them.

 

“Leave them off,” she snapped.

 

Lenny looked at her blankly.  “What?”

 

“You like it better that way, don’t you?” Accusation sharpened her voice, creating a tone that would have made her wince if she hadn’t been so angry.

 

He looked around uncomfortably, “Well…”

 

Laverne threw up her hands in despair.  “I don’t believe it!”

 

“Vernie…” Lenny reached out, and then quickly snatched his hand back as if burnt.

 

“Well, I want the lights on!”

 

He looked at her in near horror.  “I can’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

 

Words tumbled out of Laverne’s mouth of their own accord, asking the question that she didn’t’ think she could bear to hear the answer.  “Do I look that awful to you, Len? I mean, after seeing me that night… the first time we…I guess I didn’t live up to what you’d always wanted to see all them years, did I?”

 

He blinked at her, as if surprised.  “What are you talking about?  You’re gorgeous!”

 

“So gorgeous you can’t look at me when we’re…” Humiliation prevented Laverne from finishing her question.

 

“Well, yeah…”

 

“That don’t make sense.  What do you do, Len?  Touch me and pretend I’m Betty Paige?”

 

Lenny shook his head.  “Nah-I do that when I’m touching-never mind.  Laverne, what is wrong with you?”

 

“You tell me!  You’re the one who keeps turning out the lights every time we touch.  What’s wrong with me, Len,” she said, as her tears blurred her words to a mumble.  Am I repulsive or something?”

 

“You ain’t repulsive.  Trust me, I know repulsive when I see it.  It’s just.  Well, it’s-Oh,  I can’t explain it.”

 

Laverne smiled in grim satisfaction. “I knew it.  Repulsive.”

 

“No!  It’s just, when I saw you that time…” his voice trailed off, and his body trembled slightly.

“It scarred you for life?”

 

“No!  You just looked so good, I wanted to do…”

 

“Do what, Len?”  Throw up, she wondered?

 

“More.  A lot more,” he added, as his voice dropped nearly an octave.  “More in ways that I shouldn’t be thinking about.  Not yet, at least.”

 

“Really?”  She allowed a tiny glimmer of hope grow within her.

 

“Yeah.  I just.  I mean, even with the lights out, I want you so much, Laverne.”

 

She moved closer to him.  “I want you too, Lenny.  I mean, I think about it-us,” she corrected, “a lot.  Okay, all the time.”

 

He abruptly shook his head and took a step back.  “But we can’t…”

 

“Why?”

 

His hand briefly strayed to the pocket of his coat before he jerked it back, as if the cheap polyester hid a live coal.  “You’re special, Laverne.”

 

She moved closer again. “You’re special too, Len.  That’s why we’re here, so we can do something special together.”

 

“We can’t tonight,” he said, aghast.

 

Laverne smiled sadly at him and nodded.  “I know.  We ain’t prepared.  I’m not on anything, and the rubber I bought is a year old, and -“

 

Lenny’s jaw hit the ground.  “You got a rubber?  Laverne Marie DeFazio, what would your father say?”

 

Laverne rolled her eyes out of reflex.  “Nothing, cuz he ain’t never gonna know.”  Inspiration hit her.  “Do you have a newer one?”

 

Lenny looked horrified.  “No!  What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

 

Laverne groaned, “Now’s not the time to ask me that.”

 

“We can’t-I mean, we won’t.  Laverne, you don’t gotta do that to hang on to me,” he said as he gripped her shoulders.

 

She blinked, not trusting her own hearing.  “Hang on?  You think I’d do this-something I always wanted to do with a guy that I was in love with-just to hang on to somebody?”

 

“Well, you know how you get…” Lenny winced and looked like he wished he could take back his words.

 

Cold anger began to build a tight knot in Laverne’s gut.  “No.  How do I get?” 

 

Lenny babbled on, with all the confidence and desperation of a man bailing out the hold of the Titanic with a teaspoon.  “You don’t gotta be that way with me, Laverne.  I respect you.”

 

“Lucky me,” she growled. “Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to do more with you because I have feelings for you?  Because I love you?”

 

Lenny’s face contorted somewhere between a smile and a wince, “You don’t gotta prove it to me, that way, though.”

 

“This has nothing to do with me proving anything!”  Laverne rubbed her forehead as she felt the beginnings of a doozy of a headache begin.

 

“Then what’s it about?” he started to sit down on the edge of her bed before jumping back up and awkwardly attempting to look nonchalant as he leaned against her dressing table.

 

“I don’t know,” she whined.  “All I know is the guy who’s been drooling over me for years, all of a sudden won’t touch me when we’re actually officially going out.  How is that supposed to make me feel?”

 

“Respected?” he offered lamely.

 

“No!”  Ugly, she said to herself.

 

Lenny gently took her hand in his and said, “You’re the kind of girl who makes me want to wait.”

 

Laverne snatched her hand away, “I can’t believe you said that!  That is the meanest thing you could say!  Lenny, I want to!  Do you?”

 

“Well, yeah.  But, I’m a guy,” he clarified, “I’m always going to want to.”

 

“Yeah, well that only seems to happen when there’s a stripper of a hooker around doesn’t it.  It doesn’t happen when we’re alone together.”  She smiled to herself as he flinched.  Good, she thought.  That got his attention.

 

His eyes took on an angry sheen, their blueness suddenly colder than a glacier.  “I ain’t proud of that.”

 

“Well at least you’ve had the chance to make the choice, Lenny.  I really haven’t.”

 

He looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.  “Go on!  You’re a nice girl, no matter what all the guys on the loading dock used to say,” he added.

 

“I ain’t kidding, Len,” she said, as her tone softened.  “Fonzie wouldn’t.  I guess he didn’t want to deal with some crying little ex-virgin later one.  Norman and Ted never had enough time, and Randy…”

 

“Randy was a gentleman, Laverne,” Lenny said softly.  “Just like I’m trying to be right now.”

 

She shook her head violently, as tears began to flow.  “He died, Len.  He didn’t have a choice that night.  Neither did I.”

 

“I don’t get it.  You and Shirley always used to talk about…”

 

“Waiting?” Laverne let out a short yelp of humorless laughter.  “That was Shirley, Len.  Not me.”  She took a step towards him purposefully.  “I never intended to wait, Len.  I never wanted to.  I just ended up this way, a twenty-eight year-old virgin,” A realization struck her, and she sat down on her bed limply.  “Oh god, now I’m even alone in that club since Shirley and Carmine…”

 

“You’re lucky.  I wish I waited.”

 

She rolled her eyes.  “That’s a load of balloon juice, Len. You’re a guy.  Guys don’t have to wait.”

 

He stuck out his chin and looked remarkably like a four year old who announced to all and sundry that he would never eat his brussel sprouts.  “I’m gonna wait from now on, though.  I’m not going to do that never again unless I’m married.”

 

Laverne felt liked she’d been kicked in the gut.  “What?”

 

Lenny continued on blithely, “You heard me.  None, zip, zed, bupkus, nada…Little Lenny is staying in the O.K. Corral till his wedding night.”

 

He couldn’t-he wouldn’t… Laverne took a deep breath as her life took yet another leap outside of her control.  “I take it back.  Now THAT’s the meanest thing I ever heard.”

 

“I’m doing it to protect you, Laverne.  You don’t know what guys are like…”

 

His patronizing manner made her cruel smile twisted her lips into a near snarl.  “I know what guys are like, Len.  You just don’t know what women are like.”

 

“I know what women are like,” he sneered in that irritating, juvenile, Squiggy-backing way that annoyed her beyond her control.

 

“Strippers don’t count,” she sniped, a dark part of her enjoying the sudden look of guilt in his eyes.

 

He looked at her balefully, his mood turning on a dime.  “That was low blow.  Then again, that’s something you know all about, don’t you, Laverne?” he added, twisting the knife a bit.

 

“Get out!”

 

“I’m gone!”

 

“Good!  Keep walking, ‘cause you ain’t out the door yet!”

 

“I can’t believe I almost-not again!” he moaned dramatically as once again, his hand strayed to his jacket pocket

 

“You didn’t even come near to “almost” tonight, bucko!  And at this rate, you won’t!”

 

The front door crashing into its frame was his retort.

 

Laverne exhaled, and then shuddered by the eerie way the noise echoed in her empty bedroom.  Better get used to it, her little inner voice-the one who always pointed out her big nose and buckteeth-said.

 

As usual, it was right.  Laverne looked around the room, and uncontrollably began to visualize how it would soon look.  Shirley’s twin bed disappeared-they’d probably take it with them to New York, since babies show up when they’re least expected.  She glanced at her closet and Shirley’s clothes on the right side seemed to dematerialize before her eyes, like they’d been beamed up on Star Trek.  The once spacious bedroom now seemed cavernous and cold.  The sounds of her sniffling continued to echo, but even more frightening was the all-encompassing silence when she held her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs.  It was too much.

 

Leaping to her feet, Laverne dashed down the stairs, pausing only long enough to snag her purse off of the table.  She couldn’t control what was going to happen tomorrow.  Shirley was leaving and she couldn’t stop her.  However, there was no law that said she had to be alone tonight, she reasoned as she ran out of the door and into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Of all the crazy…” Lenny muttered angrily under his breath, as he slammed through his front door in a near rage.  “Squig!” he shouted.  The empty apartment offered no response.

 

Probably just as good, he thought.  The last thing he needed to do was walk in on Squiggy and Rhonda doing what they were doing on the kitchen table again.  He jerked his hand away from the Formica tabletop as that image replayed itself in his head, and he briefly wondered if there was any Clorox around.

 

A bottle reflected brightly to him from the top of the fridge as he snapped on the cheap fluorescent fixture.  Not Clorox, he thought.  Better…

 

Lenny snagged the bottle of mescal and then melodramatically threw himself upon his creaking top bunk.  Damn her, anyway, he thought.  The one time he tried to be a gentleman.  Visions of other girls he had known writhing in various states of undress danced before his eyes, but the sight didn’t bring him pleasure.  They all looked back at him, their eyes unblinking and unfeeling, but with mocking smiles on their faces.  Their faces became Laverne’s, their expressions of disgust became the one she would have worn if he’d ever let her see him-it.  Maybe tonight was some sort of twisted blessing in disguise, he thought.

 

Lenny sighed as he twisted off the top of the bottle and peered into it, relieved to see that the worm remained at the bottom and had not come back from the dead in some sort of zombie-worm state intent on killing all who disturbed his liquid tomb.  From this angle, Mr. Worm looked like he might be made out of Bosco, Lenny thought as he took a rough swig.  There was one way to find out if he tasted like Bosco, and determinedly, Lenny took a second and much longer draught from the bottle.

 

 

 

 

Sinbad’s was dim as usual, when Laverne walked in, and reeking of stale cigarette smoke and long ago spilled beer and bourbon.  The bar was so dim that it took her a few moments to realize that there were only about four people in the whole bar, including the bartender.  Feigning a confidence that she only wished she possessed, Laverne stuck her chin-and other parts of her anatomy--out, and sauntered as sexily as she could to a barstool.

 

She flashed the bartender the old DeFazio grin before she got a good look at herself in the mirror behind the bar.  She looked like the wreck of the Hesperus, she thought, as she frantically grabbed some napkins off of the bar and began to attempt to scrape off the raccoon eyes caused by her running mascara. 

 

“Napkins ain’t free,” grunted the bartender, a balding and paunchy man who’s heavily tattooed arms suggested a life more darkly adventurous than he could probably cope with these days.

 

“Gimme a Shotz,” Laverne mumbled as she spat into the napkin and resumed her impromptu grooming.

 

The bartender regarded her warily as he poured her a draft.  As he set it down in front of her, his good eye seemed to light up in recognition.  “You’ve been in here before, haven’t ya?”

 

Laverne shrugged noncommittally before quaffing down half of her drink.  You can do this, she said to herself.  This will be fun.  Meeting new guys with no Shirley nagging me that it’s late and we need to get up early tomorrow for work.

 

Seven o’clock she reminded herself.  Laverne glanced at the battered clock on the wall.  Midnight, and the bars closed at two.  That didn’t give her much time to meet Mr. Right, or, she thought guiltily as Lenny’s face flashed before her eyes, Mr. Right Now.

 

So far, the bartender was proving to be her biggest fan.  “You’ve come in here before, haven’t ya?” he repeated, “you and your friend, the little one.”

 

“Shirley,” Laverne mumbled despite herself.

 

He nodded, pleased that he was right over something.  “Ain’t seen you here on a Sunday night before.”

 

She looked around the near empty bar.  The guys in the corner were all too busy in their conversation to give her a glance.  The story of my life, she thought to herself.  “It’s not exactly jumping, is it?  Not like “Walk the Plank in a Wet T Shirt Night”, eh?”

 

The bartender groaned.  “You missed the boat with that one, Sweetie.”

 

Laverne instinctively looked down at herself.  “What do you mean by that, Baldy?”

 

He shook his head and guffawed, a noise that reminded her of Lenny so much that she had to chug the rest of her beer.

 

“I’ll have another,” she said, sliding a buck across the bar.

 

“Goddamn insurance company won’t let me do the plank promotion no more,” he groused as he gestured up to a broken piece of plywood dangling from the ceiling.  “We had the last plank night two weeks ago, and uh-didn’t you read the papers?”

 

Laverne shook her head.  Two weeks ago had been Shirley’s wedding weekend, her lost weekend.  Nothing important happened then that wasn’t in her bedroom-or in a sleazy Vegas chapel.  The second beer quickly followed the first.

 

“Yeah well,” the bartender continued, oblivious, and probably happy that someone-anyone-was listening to him.  “Well, I ain’t supposed to talk about it--You ain’t from the insurance company, are you?” He continued as Laverne shook her head, “There was an incident,” he said as he made finger quotes in the air.  “A buncha drunk broads dancing on a wooden plank twelve feet off the ground while guys sprayed them with seltzer.  I mean nobody could have thought that would have ended badly, could they?”

 

Laverne opened her mouth to retort, but somehow she just ended up ordering her third beer. 

 

“Here ya go.”

 

“No more plank night?” Another lost opportunity, Laverne thought and wanted to scream.

 

“It’s the end of an era, Honey.  Hey, you drink awful fast for a broad.”

 

She was about to tell Baldy that he ain’t seen nothing yet, when a noise behind her caught her attention.  She turned around and was startled to see a familiar face.

 

“In all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine,” said Sonny St. Jacques in what had to be the worst Bogart impression in the history of the world.

 

“Sonny?”  She started to smile before remembering how they parted and how angry she had been with him.

 

Sonny grinned, his oh-so-charming grin, the one that made her melt during her first frightening months in Burbank.  “The same.  How have you been, Laverne,” he said as his eyes drifted to the three empty pilsners in front of her.

 

“Fine, great.  Never better,” she said, her nose in the air as she crossed her legs and attempted to strike a sexy-yet classy pose.

 

Sonny reached out and steadied her as the barstool wobbled ominously.  “You okay?”

 

“Wonderful.  So,” she continued while she wondered if a fourth beer would calm her nerves, “how is life treating you?”

 

Sonny shrugged, a gesture that would have been weak on a less attractive man, but on him it simply looked endearing.  He had the most puppy dog like eyes, she thought before realizing that he was talking.

 

“And now that I can devote myself one hundred percent to stunt work, I’m really starting to get a name in the business.”

 

“You’re working that much?  That’s great,” Laverne said, despite herself.

 

“Well…I’m working a little more than I was when I managed the apartment building, but now that I’m renting a house with seven other guys, it’s easier to make ends meet.”

 

“Oh.” she said as memories of Sonny’s whipping out a variety of coupons in every restaurant he’d ever taken her too resurfaced.  “Well, it’s not like you’re lonely,” she said, and then mentally kicked herself for taking the conversation to the one topic she never, ever wanted to discuss with an ex.

 

“I do, okay,” he said obviously misinterpreting her question.  “So how goes it with you?  Are you still at Bardwells? 

 

A fourth beer would hit the spot, Laverne decided.  Forcing a smile, she replied, “Still at Bardwells, but I’m looking to move on.  I just don’t know where yet,” she added, then inwardly cursed herself for sounding so indecisive.

 

“Still playing the guitar?”

 

She nodded and smiled.  “Yeah, but I’ll never be as good as Le-as most people who play.”

 

“How’s Shirley?”

 

Her smile crumbled completely under his last volley.  “She’s great,” Laverne replied, not even caring that she could no longer hide her bitterness.  “So is your ex-roomie, Carmine.  They’re wonderful.  They’re so wonderful that they eloped to Vegas two weeks ago and they’re moving to New York next month.”

 

“Wow.”  He looked stunned

 

“Yeah,” she nodded while favoring the bartender, who wasn’t as unattractive as she had thought ten minutes ago, wish a sweet smile.

 

“That’s a huge change.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

“Carmine settling down…Never would have seen that coming in a million years.”

 

Laverne rolled her eyes in exasperation.  You and I never did read each other too well, did we handsome?  “It was great seeing you, Sonny.  Best of luck with the whole jumping off buildings thing.”   She turned to make an elegant exit, to take the high road for once and leave an ex boyfriend in a civil and adult manner.  It would have been perfect if she’d remembered she been sitting on a barstool and not standing up.

 

In a flash, Sonny was helping her up off the icky and sticky barroom floor.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine, she replied, as she looked down, startled to see her legs wobbling.  They’d seemed so steady when she was on the stool…  The floor lurched up at her treacherously again and she felt a pair of strong arms encircle her.

 

“How much have you had to drink, Laverne?”

 

“A few here, a few earlier,” she said as she recalled her earlier imbibing at Cowboy Bills.

 

“Where’s Shirley?” Sonny asked, looking in the direction of the Ladies’ Room.

 

She groaned.  “I told you, she’s married.  She’s off with Carmine now, doing married people things,” she said wistfully as her beer-goggled eyes began to dance over Sonny’s muscular frame.

 

“You’re here alone?  In this dump?”

 

“You calling my place a dump, Sonny?” The bartender shouted.

 

“Hey, the first time I came here, I was with you,” Laverne whined.

 

“I had a two for one coupon,” he offered up lamely.  “This isn’t a place for a woman to come alone…”

 

Anger galvanized Laverne and blessed her with a moment of coordination.  “Oh great.  Another big strong man who wants to protect me from myself.  I think I’ve had just about enough of that tonight, Stunt Guy! Good night,” she said, as she attempted to whirl away from him and make at least a dignified exit.  Fortunately, Sonny caught her before her keister hit the ground.

 

“Uh, Laverne, where are your shoes?” He held her left foot in his hand with all the enthusiasm of a street worker picking up road kill.

 

Before Laverne could answer, the bartender bellowed, “We have a strict dress code in here, Honey,” he said as he pointed a meaty finger at a stained sign behind the bar staring, ‘No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service’.  “We have certain standards, here at Sinbad’s.  Of course, we’re a little flexible.  If you want to take off your top, I’ll let the whole ‘no shoes’ thing slide.”

 

“Shut up, Ralph!”  Sonny yelled.  “Laverne, I’m going to take you home.”

 

“Oh goody,” Laverne slurred.  When did they start putting Novocain in beer, she wondered?  “These seven roommates of yours, are they cute?”

 

“They’re all guys, how the hell would I know, and I’m taking you to your place. You need to sleep this off.”

 

“Half right,” she murmured as she traced her finger down his chest.

 

“Ralph,” Sonny said as he reached into his back pocket, before sweeping Laverne up in his arms, “do me a favor and unlock my car door.”

 

Ralph leered at him.  “The back door?”

 

“The passenger side you ignoramus,” Sonny muttered.  “I swear, this guy makes Lenny and Squiggy look like they’ve got manners,” he whispered to Laverne.

 

“Lenny…” she mumbled.

 

 

 

 

Sonny grunted as he hoisted Laverne on his shoulder and up the last three steps to her front door.  Great, he thought, she didn’t even lock it.  He shook his head and wondered how’d he’d ever allowed himself to become so infatuated with such a train wreck.

 

That was all before Gwendolyn, and the mere thought of his fiancee’s name made him smile as always. Stopping at the staircase, he took a deep breath and hoisted Laverne over his shoulder in a graceless fireman’s carry.  Walking into the bedroom he noted with a smirk that the two twin beds were still in place and Shirley’s prized, if sort of creepy, stuffed cat, Boo Boo Kitty held court on the chair by the dresser.  Shirley and Carmine married, he thought as he shook his head.  Right…

 

Gingerly, he lay his ex-girlfriend down on one of the beds and gently kissed her on the forehead before covering her up with a blanket.  He straightened up and groaned as he massaged his lower back.  “Good night, Laverne,” he whispered. He winced at the snoring sound she made in response.  Maybe he was lucky that they’d never gone further than third base, he reflected as he tried to reconcile the sight of the passed out drunk in front of him with the cute, but odd girl from Milwaukee that he’d met a year and a half ago.  “The times, they are a’ changin’,” he said, and then congratulated himself for being able to quote Dylan.  Whether it was the poet, or the songwriter; it didn’t matter to him.  It made him sound intellectual either way.

 

Tiptoeing downstairs, he stretched out on the couch.  He didn’t feel right about leaving Laverne alone in her present condition, especially considering the awful way they had ended their relationship.  Well, if playing the white knight tonight to a drunk made him feel better about his previous behavior, it was worth it, he figured.  Sonny yawned.  He might even have time for a short nap before Shirley got home to take care of her basket case of a roommate, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

 

FIN

To "Always Prepared"
To "Always Appologize First"