JULY "CITIZEN LA" & New Piece "Chick Bar Fight" by Jim Marquez

Ladies & Gents!

The July issue of "Citizen LA" is out now on the streets of Downtown Los Angeles. In bars, cafes, restaurants, galleries...If you can't pick up a copy, no worries, just visit:

http://www.citizenla.com/



Click "Columns" for my piece on the Miss Downtown LA Beauty Contest (check out some outrageous pics from Miss Downtown LA on my "blogs" @ www.myspace.com/jimthewriter).

Also click "Features" for my piece on "Self-Help Graphics".

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Now, stayed tuned for my new piece that will be running in the September issue of "Citizen LA" & in my updated book "L.A. Bitch IV: The Last Word!" soon...

visit my books @ www.LuLu.com/JimMarquez

"Chick Bar Fight"

by Jim Marquez

There had to be shit already going on in the bar before I got there. Tension with the boys behind the counter was way too goddamn high. Maybe they’re just finally getting old. I mean, I’ve been coming to this joint 14 years and they were ancient then. So much of their lives putting up with the assholes who can’t hold their booze, the whores, the washing of vomit & cum off the bathroom walls, the fights, the shake downs, the storeroom fires, employees taking from the till, whatever; like anything else, it has to get to you.

Anyway, I walk in, 80s mix blaring, and I see Billy, late-60s, shift boss, behind the bar, wagging his finger at some young punk and scolding him as he is wont to do on occasion in order to amuse himself.

I quickly scan the room: fuck sitting near a booth taken up by huddled women playing the “let’s-see-who-buys-us-the-most-drinks-and-wont-get-laid” game and I happily settle between two sweetly intoxicated girls who look like they’re ready for action.

Tall, skinny, white, blonde & medium, portly, white brunette. Blonde is completely twisted on beers and her big friend is pounding cranberry & vodka.

I order my Jameson-rocks. It’s too damn late to be in a regular bar, about 12:30, this ain’t the all-nighter crowd at some Downtown LA underground, should’ve been here 30 minutes ago in order to initiate a contact but I glance over at Blonde anyway, and she, in a far away drunken haze leers back, but she’s doing it to everybody that passes; spinning around and saying “it’s my birthday” and wiggling her bottle in front of her. She gets kisses on the cheek, high fives, a man grabs her ass, she doesn’t mind, and two others latch on to make hits.

Brunette is being chatted up by some black dude who winks at me over her shoulder. I nod and tip my glass.

Then suddenly Billy hurls a bottle into the sink and I jump and he’s grumbling “mother-fucker-mother-fucker”. I look down at the end of the bar, see the kid he was yelling at and the kid looks contrite, slurping his beer, his buddy whispering into his ear and the kid is nodding, slurping, nodding.

And warm tits press against my shoulder and it’s Blonde leaning on me, smiling, she says, “You having a good time tonight?”

“Fuck yeah, baby! You?” I put my arm around her waist and clamp my hand on her ass and squeeze hard and I bring those sweet little titties closer to me and I kiss her neck. Lick her ear.

“Fucking-A yes!” she screams and slams her bottle on the bar and Billy barks, “Hey, watch it goddammit!” and stomps off to yank cold glasses out of the fridge but loses his grip on one and it drops and he growls, indecipherable, and throws the other on the floor in disgust.

Blonde pulls away from me and shoos Brunette off her stool and attempts to sit, crosses a leg under her like women do but she’s too drunk to balance and immediately tumbles with a yelp and falls against me. Her beer shatters at my feet, her body now resting heavy on my back as her friend and the others laugh and I see Billy fuming, think he’s gonna 86 the broad and nobody bothers to help her as she slides off of me and lands on her ass with a soft thump, not even the tatted-up, flip flop wearing, Nazi assholes with their “LAKE HAVASU OR BUST!” muscle shirts who are hitting on her.

So I take Blonde’s hands and hoist. She belches in my face and reaches for the bar: “GIMME ANOTHER DAMMIT AND PUT IT ON MY CARD!”

The other bartender, Conrad, about 60, can barely contain himself but he keeps silent and grabs a beer from the icebox. The drunker they are the more they spend. Why kick ‘em out? They haven’t hurt anybody, right?

And then there are 6 men surrounding Blonde, they smell blood in the water. She’s digging the attention. Inebriated beyond reason, not caring if she makes a fool of herself. Easy pickings. But I sense dread. She’s too fucked up: not slutty fucked up, but reckless fucked up. Two totally different kinds of fucked up. And her friend is not even looking after her. My God, she’s your buddy; you must know how she gets.

Men taking turns, hands on the small of Blonde’s back, sliding south, each stealing pecks on beer flavored lips as she’s passed man to man and the grip on my glass tightens; the air crackles, pussy’s on fire, the music’s grinding, something’s gonna happen, something's gonna happen! Where the hell is security?

Brunette approaches me, slurs, “Hey, I know you.”

“You really should look after your friend, she…”

“You’re that writer, huh?”

“Because...well, yeah, actually, I…” and then I don’t know what gets my attention but I’m looking to my left, a drunk’s hollering, another drama begins, don’t know how long I was spacing out but when I turn back Billy is bellowing at the Brunette, “…THE FUCK OUTTA MY BAR THEN! GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY BAR!”

The Brunette’s crying, “BUT WHY? WHAT DID I SAY?”

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!”

“WHAT DID I DO?!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“PLEASE, PLEASE, WHAT…”

Billy’s pounding on the bar “OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT!” and turns his back.

Brunette screeches “THEN FUCK YOU TOO!” and all cliché aside but in slow motion this woman reaches for a bottle of Bud, rears her arm back-people around me watching, giving her space, she can’t be serious-and fires it at Billy’s head and I scream “BILLY WATCH IT!” and the damn thing is still traversing the air so Billy has time to duck and the bottle crashes into the wall above his head, glass and beer spraying, and I’m falling off my stool onto the dude next to me because Brunette has pushed me aside along with empty glasses & napkin holders & olive-lime containers & she’s half way ON the bar spitting, “I’LL KILL YOU! I’ll FUCKING KILL YOU” and Billy has turned, right hand clutching his heart and charges the woman and takes a swing but misses, slips, falls on his rack of hard liquor and finally two security boys grab the woman but can’t handle the girth-the savagery has taken over-and it’s tough getting around her waist so they teeter and pirouette and she drags them to the ground where they struggle; her dress rips, a bra strap snaps, a large, stark-white breast is exposed, a shoe comes off and she’s quickly hauled off by 3 men now, knocking over chairs, a table, patrons are hightailing it, young women with fake IDs are crying, witnessing humiliation for the first time in public, and she grabs hold of the pool rack by the door but it peels from the wall and chalk & cues scatter and her screams from the street as the men take turns punching her are drowned out by the passing night buses.

Still clutching my whiskey for dear life I get up. Order another…




Jim’s books:
www.LuLu.com/JimMarquez
www.MySpace.com/JimTheWriter

cheers,

beast...