The knock when it came at the ungodly hour of 2 a.m. (it's a sign I am getting old when 2 a.m. becomes an "ungodly hour") wasn't delivered with the force that I had expected. It was a hesitant, almost nervous, knock. It was like the person on the other side of my door really didn't want me to be home to answer, and was knocking out of a sense of duty, and hope that they would be able to go back to whomever sent them to me and say "sorry governor, but the cove wasn't at home, I knocked loud and proper like." Sadly for my nocturnal visitor, I was awake having just ushered a "lady friend" out the aforementioned door with a sigh, and a promise of "brunch" tomorrow. At least that was the plan, I figured our reluctant knocker probably was about to change tomorrow's plans for me. At least I knew it wasn't Felix or one of his goons, their knocks thundered throughout the neighborhood, and damn near took the door off its hinges. Nothing like a good show for Felix and his playmates. Since I didn't have a "double header" scheduled for the night, I decided to end the mystery, and open my door to the nervous Nellie knocking on it. Upon opening it, I was met with a kid of about 10-12 years old holding a note in his, none too clean, hands. "You GI?" he asked, I nodded, "this is for you Sully sent me, said you'd know what it meant." and with that he handed me the, none too clean, piece of paper and scarpered off like he had been shot out of a cannon.
I suspected that I already knew the gist of the note, if not the actual words, and I began to get dressed (putting on pants at 2 a.m. is just wrong I tell you). For form's sake, if for nothing else, I opened the note and read it "your boy's here, and his wagon has developed a wobble in its wheel. signed SULLY" It was pretty much as I had expected and since it was technically Thursday, I knew what that meant. With a curse and a sigh for being put upon again for the same thing, I left my cozy little love nest and headed to Sully's. It was looking like "brunch" tomorrow was going to have to wait. The walk to Sully's isn't too terribly far from the shithole in which I live, and I figured I would use the time to try to think of a new idea to fix this weekly problem that had begun to plague me, and the few people I sometimes refer to as friends. Multiple approaches had been tried, and they all seem to have failed. Of course, that is the problem inherent in the fact that you've got multiple people trying to solve the same problem each in their own way, and a lack of a "leader" to coordinate the effort. But we do our best, and hope it's good enough, though lately it rarely seemed to be.
"He's been pouring whiskey down his neck for the better part of four hours, figured it was time to let you know your duty. It being Thursday and all." Sully's greeting was delivered with just a slight grin on his ugly mug, and I grimaced in reply and said "thanks Sully you're a sweetheart as always, bring him the coffee he doesn't want, but needs, and me one of your 'turbo' beers. No need for both to be all the way sober for this shit show." I glanced around Sully's place, which didn't take long being as it's as big as a postage stamp, and saw "my boy" propped up in a booth near the back. Good place for him, since it was closest to the bathroom, and the most dimly lit (which is saying something). I slid into the booth across from him, "what's the rumpus cowboy? To what do I owe the 2 a.m. call of the wild?" He focused his bleary eyes on me, which took a considerable amount of both time and effort. "She's dating someone else, and is probably going to sleep with him." I sighed "well it has been months, and it is my understanding of relationships, limited as it might be, that at some point sleeping together is involved, if you are to advance the relationship that is, otherwise you're just friends without benefits." That at least brought a laugh out of him "of all my 'handlers', and yes I know about your schedule, you're the one that makes me laugh the most GI. Why do you think I picked this shit hole on a Thursday? It ain't for the atmosphere or the crowd." Here he waved a hand expansively about taking in the glory that is Sully's bar, and the 5 patrons in various states of drunkenness that inhabited the place.
"So, because I'm the quickest wit of the group, I get the pleasure of this enthralling conversation? Well isn't it just my lucky day" I replied making a mental note to swap my scheduled day with another of our group just to avoid him becoming too smug, and thinking I was at his beck and call. Wait for him to try the old "get drunk at Sully's on Thursday, and expect GI to show up trick again, and be surprised when the least favorite of the group storms in and rips him a new one because they hate Sully's with a passion. He put up a conciliatory hand " now, now don't take it that way, other than the quickest wit, you've also been in the same boat I'm in more often, and more recently than the rest of that lot that call themselves my handlers." I rubbed my eyes "well that is true, but I'd don't think I handled my 'boat' very well, and certainly not well enough to warrant the giving of advice on how to handle yours." He smiled "oh no I'm not going to do what you did, I keep you around as an object lesson, a lesson in what NOT to do."
The waitress, gods love her, chose that moment to bring our drinks, keeping me from swearing at him with the venom he deserved for that wisecrack. "Here drink your fucking coffee, and no we are not going to "Irish" it up for you." I nodded my thanks to the waitress, gods love her, and sipped my 'turbo' beer, coughed a bit as I realized that Sully had gone heavy on the 'turbo' and light on the beer. "Well my failures aside, what are we here to discuss? her moving on, your crippling inability to deal with that fact, or the fact we've both got to work in the damn morning, and our boss(es) won't be happy to see how shitty we look when we come into the office?" "Oh GI, that is tomorrow's problem, if we survive will handle that tomorrow, for now let's try to deal with today's problem shall we?"
"This, whatever this is, isn't today's problem. It didn't just pop up this morning and surprise you like an Apache scout coming out the bushes and putting an arrow in our cowboy hero's back. This has been an ongoing problem, and I suppose you've picked today for it to come bubbling to surface like oil, but I don't think we are going to get rich off of it" He smirked, "always the wise ass aren't you?" I nodded "yeah, that's me the wise ass who doesn't know any better than to be in this dive with you on a school night. Other than a sense of duty to keep you employed, and not have to do your work if you get fired that is." He laughed again "don't die because I don't want to handle your "cases." I guess that was the battle cry of our group back in the day wasn't it? Well, back before the group went to shit, for which you are partially to blame, I might add." I sighed "we aren't here to discuss my high crimes and misdemeanors, I don't have enough of this in me for that." I said as I waved my beer glass in front of me.
He opened his mouth to reply, but I raised a hand "stop, just stop talking for a bit. You wanted me and my 'quick wit' here, well you've got it, and now I am going to regale you with slash force you to listen to a story that will help you out. It's all connected to the solution of your problem that I came to on the walk here. I'm going to shorten it a bit for you, because Sully will want us out of here soon, and given the amount of rot gut you've had, I figure your attention span has been considerably shortened. The story or stories involve two men, one named Alfred Redl and the other Ernst Rohm. One was an Austrian military officer, and the other a German thug. They had a few things in common the full details of which need not detain us here, but the major thing they had in common was their end. Both found themselves in rather hopeless situations, and were given a loaded revolver and told "to do the honourable thing." Meaning here take this gun, go into that room, and blow your own brains out, if you do we will say you died a "hero's death" and your family won't have to live with your shame."
He sighed and started to speak, but I was quicker "one of them chose the hero's death, and blew his brains out. It was Redl, I guess being a military man, he had a sense of honour or some shit I don't know, but he took the simple way out and avoided the scandal. Rohm, the thug, was actually a decorated veteran of World War I, but when he was offered his loaded gun, a room alone, and 10 minutes to do the right thing, he refused. After the allotted time, hearing no gun shot two of his jailers walked into his room (cell) and shot him. He was then erased from history, at least for as long as his killers were in power. We remember them both today, but neither are remembered fondly. Infamy is the price of treason I suppose." I paused and looked at him, gathering my thoughts for the next bit of my speech to explain to him the plan I had formulated on the walk over. I didn't think he would like it, but I wasn't in the mood to coddle him. He had been coddled enough in his life, which I figured was half the reason we were in this shithole of a bar at an ungodly hour.
I took out my own revolver, and pushed it across the table to him. "It's got the one bullet it needs, and there is the bathroom." I pointed behind him. "Sully knows all about this, and this place has a very discreet back door, and no one here will have seen or heard anything, if you choose to take Redl's path. The good news that if you don't, you won't be faced with what happened to Rohm, you just come back here give me the gun, and we won't speak of this ever again." He looked at me with alarm, then looked at the gun, "back that way?" I nodded "the men's room yeah. It's closer to the back door, and it's got a lock. I'll expect a decision in 10 minutes. If it's time enough for Rohm, it's time enough for you." He nodded his head, grabbed the gun, and stumbled his way to the bathroom. Sully came over and dropped another "turbo" in front of me, and said "you mad bastard what are you doing?" Inclining his head towards the men's room. "I'm giving the lad a choice, and waiting to see which one he takes." Sully shook his head "don't you think you're taking this "if people are horses" bullshit just a bit too far?" I smiled "well Sully, we will see, I mean not every bet is a winning bet, you just have to make sure you don't bet more than you can lose." Sully shook his head, and got up "you damn well know we don't have a fucking back door." and walked away without another word.
I looked at my watch, but about that time he came out of the bathroom, handed me the gun, and sat back down. "I couldn't do "the right thing" as you call it, guess I'm a Rohm like coward after all." I shook my head, "no lad you're not a coward at all. Your crime isn't treason, and all of this was just an unfair test. Sorry I had to do it, but I had to know." I flipped open the cylinder on the revolver and turned the gun over, nothing came out. "It wasn't loaded anyway. I was just listening for the click. Also, there isn't a back door anywhere near the bathroom, and carting your fat, dead ass out of there was more work than I was prepared to do. Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.” His eyes widened and he spluttered "you bastard, you gave me a gun with no bullets and told me go shoot myself? You.... you..." I smiled "I gave you a unloaded gun, and told you to do the right thing. Which you did, now the hard part starts." He raised an eyebrow "and what is the hard part?" I smiled "living you daft cunt, living is the hard part, and living without her is going to be harder than Chinese math, at least for a while, but you've made the first step onto that path, and now let's continue that trip by getting the fuck out of here, going home, and making our bosses proud by showing up to work tomorrow like good little boys."
