Matters of Little Consequence

The following summer series is based on true events. It was inspired by the movie After Hours, a little known dark comedy out of the eighties in which the main character feasts on Murphy’s Law until the sun comes up.

The only thing that goes as planned is time. The rest is a cosmic jump ball.

December 31, 2009- I’ve been invited to a New Years party for the second year in a row, which is kind of like being hit by lightning and then donning a suit of armor in anticipation of the next storm. I say this because of my enigmatic nature. I give off the appearance of a social butterfly but parties make me anxious. I find them to be a random exercise in human behavior to which I’ve never been able to relate.

The only reason I’m going is because I’ve got an idea. It’s provocatively ambitious, sort of like a Hemi without brakes. Page one of the blueprint involves a slight reboot on the standard Martini made famous by old Blue Eyes. Because when venturing into dangerous territory, always have a drink in you. And when said territory involves a married woman, make it a good one.

The room is slanted towards the female persuasion. Still, I ain’t making any Sunday morning pancake plans just the same. I’m riding hard on a bet whose crimson locks would drape nicely over any part of me they wished to venture.

I sidle up to Jen, who’s nailing some woefully inebriated chap to his gold cross for having the audacity to make a pass at her. She’s the anomaly; the only woman who showed up without a pretty sidekick. That’s because her man is out of town, and her friend is the hostess. Oh yeah, and it’s also because the hostess is the one I have my sights set on. Jen possesses a morbid appreciation for car wrecks. And to be witness to the event as it’s taking place? Well that’s just bonus round.

“Making friends, I see . .” I smile as the drunk married guy gives up on her and moves to a ring of peach schnapps gigglers.

“He’s telling me all about his wife and then he asks me what I’m doing after this,” Jen smirks.

“Women are big on honesty, the old boy’s just aiming to please,”

“So are you really gonna do this?” Jen asks. Her eyes are twinkling with visions of fist fights and police calls.

“All systems go. Problemo?”

“Well, you show up to the scene of the crime . . a year later almost to the day. This time you come alone, with the intention of stealing the hostess . . .”


“I’m sorry, I forgot how important the language is for you,”

“Stealing is bad form. It’s what high school boys do with Prom Queens. They chase, steal and score. Whereas an experienced rodeo hand pursues, borrows and makes breakfast,”

“Yeah, awesome. But it seems your expedition is based entirely on assumption,”

“Please explain,”

“You’re assuming that when she dropped the ‘we should get drinks sometime‘ line in your lap, it meant something,”

“It’s called due diligence. And besides, a married woman feeds me that line, she ain’t planning on baking cookies with it,”

“She could be a tease,”

“I’ve considered that. But when Cleopatra bats her eyelashes in your direction, you jump first and ask the pertinent questions later,”

“Remind me again why you’re still single?” Jen laughs.

“Because I tried coupling. I’ve tried it my whole life, in fact.”

“Chicago girl was a bad idea,” Jen says.

As far as understatements go, this is a platinum mantle piece. The context is that she was a brilliant writer, a former model and a trust fund brat who had legs like catamarans. From the get, she was handing out more red flags than a member of the Soviet Komsomol, but I was blinded by the science.

It’s been three months since the worst breakup of my life and it’s as if the universe talked me into coming here tonight. As if the stars wrote up this destiny whilst sipping on moonshine and listening to Johnny Cash. But I’ve got nothing to lose and that ain’t helping matters.

Time’s gonna do its business, with or without me.






36 thoughts on “Matters of Little Consequence

    • Boss,

      Welp, I sat down last night and jotted some notes on what was going to be a once and done post for Sunday. And then this morning came and the story went snowball. So yes, it will be a summer series. Every Sunday from here through the dog days.

      I’m glad you like. It’s going to be a tad bit different from my norm. But it will include mentions of my old blog, 800lb Gorilla, and then Drinks Well.

      As you well know, we don’t write the story. The story writes us.

      Thanks for real. I’m inspired by your comment.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. B,

    This is you at your best. You do know how to tell a story and keep your reader enthralled to the end… but to leave us hanging like that?

    The story might write you, as you told John, but you sure do know how to string those words together into a literary dance.

    Gonna love Sundays from here on…


    Liked by 1 person

    • Q,

      Thank you truly.

      This series is one that I was hesitant to write for the longest time, for fear that it might be seen by one of the main characters. Because as big as the online world is, it’s really quite small when it comes to writers.

      Oh . . . there might be a cliffhanger or two throughout the summer, LOL.

      It’s a dance, perfect way to put it. 🙂

      Yes, I figured why go with a two or three parter when it can fill the Sunday gaps. Episodes work.

      You’re lovely.


      Liked by 1 person

      • I can totally understand your hesitation to write such a story. That said, since the only name you name is your friend, Jen, said other character involved, while they could see it because, yes, the world is puny (online and not) hopefully, over the ten years it has taken you to write about it, things have mellowed somewhat? Though, I know, some do hold on to shit for a looooong time.

        I shall send you positive vibes on that front.

        Cliffhanger! Oh you wretch! Love it.

        Sunday episodes. I dig, I dig.

        You’re sweet…

        Liked by 1 person

        • I really don’t know what that exchange would look like. But you’re talking about a person who conducted a Google character assassination campaign on me AND created a blog for more of the same.

          The title is a big giveaway since that was the name of her former blog. Which I thought was a great blog name.

          In the end, it was my fault for getting into it, not once but twice! And the best part is? I crushed on an absolutely searing piece she wrote about her ex. It’s how I would eventually come to know her!

          Liked by 1 person

          • That is some heavy weird shit on her part. There are vindictive people out there.

            It is a great blog title name, I do have to admit.

            Well. Who can explain the ways of the heart? There was something in it for you to go back a second time – maybe it was some sort of unfinished business. Of course her writing is what attracted you first. You are a man of words.

            Liked by 1 person

          • When I say dark, I really cannot even begin to describe how dark it was. Think death, only more depressing, LOL.

            Yeah me too. Begrudgingly.

            It was the universe speaking to me. In tongues and curse words.


          • I can only try to imagine. I’ve never found myself in such a place. I’ve never invested myself so completely in something good or bad, for that matter.


            I love how you come up with phrases like that! The Universe works in mysterious ways sometimes… There are times where we don’t realise we are asking for a lesson. Wish it didn’t have to come with a sledgehammer, though.

            Liked by 1 person

          • Well, fasten your seat belts because this series is going to be dark comedy on pain pills.

            The fucked up magic of that train wreck is that I am better for it. It taught me lessons, big ones. Like . . when I see warning signs and red flags, I remove myself from the situation stat. Nothing is worth your sanity.

            Liked by 1 person

          • I have to tell you that I admire your courage in putting this out there, B.

            That’s what I’m saying. It’s just too bad that sometimes it takes a freight train running over you to learn said lessons. Mind you, these ones we learn particularly well…

            Liked by 2 people

          • I don’t know about courage, but thank you. It’s more the idea of treading into places I never really processed. Because as with any forgettable chapter of a life, there is plenty of ownership on my part as well.

            I think the number one thing it taught me is that to want something is a fatal flaw we all possess. Because when we want something, we only see it from our point of view. We never stop to consider what lies beneath.

            Liked by 2 people

          • I think it takes a lot of courage to not only process and face this part of your life but to do so in this fashion. Definitely.

            Is it really wrong to want something – I mean, not at the expense of others?

            Liked by 1 person

          • I appreciate that, really.

            It’s not wrong at all. But it is our fatal flaw, from the time of Shakespeare, who wrote about it so very well. Because we see “ours” rather than the truth.

            Liked by 1 person

  2. Story time! I loves a story time. Caught that 80s reference to the science an’ all. Good on ya.

    “It must be a drag to be a slave to the male sex drive.” ~ Watts, “Some Kind of Wonderful”

    And after a break up… this can’t be good! Hangin’ on a cliff here!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Love that song. Nice catch.

      Watts knew of what he spoke. Personally, it got dark there for a while. Some of which will be ventured into since it’s a part of the story, after all.

      I took what . . ten years to write this up. Because the fear was that a certain person would see it and comment and then watch out. Sounds paranoid, I know. But when you’ve been through a Dante-like breakup, it stays with you.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. These events send me into hyperventilation. I’m no silver-tongued conversationalist, with or without legs like a slick catamaran. To cope with that time of year (hell, probably all year long if I’m being truthful), I’ve convinced my shy self to stay home and reflect over the year’s awkward get-togethers and pray I can just hang on long enough to get through to Valentine’s Day till all this coupling season pretty much ends. It’s the most depressing time of year for me-Thanksgiving through V-Day.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. As always, my dear friend, superlative work. I had e-mailed you too, as a means of explication only. I dare hope you think nothing less of me for it.

    Liked by 1 person

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