They always went towards the sounds of the guns. Well, I’m no hero but I’ll walk towards the sounds of mine. Shifting my guitar on it’s strap so it hangs better I fished the small bottle of ‘sippin’ whiskey from my pocket. The cool night air forgotten after a sip I decide I have enough time to smoke a cigaret before I reach the door to the club. As I hunt my pockets for the pack I think back to my life over the last six months. I don’t think too hard about it though or I will need to get the bottle back out. My middle class mom, my high society dad. The silly cheerleader sisters. All of them one and all behind me, for good or ill. Bridges burned, ties cut. The soft puff of smoke fills my mouth as their faces brush past. Oh, I love them all still but they… couldn’t understand. Their lives are set in stone, layed out to the planning of generations of our family. They had mine planned out the same way of course. Prep school… ivy league… banker… husband… father… … Dead. A corpse walking. “I don’t know Richard, I really don’t know …if push came to shove…”, Roger’s voice trailed.Andrea got up, put her hand in Lucy’s hair and pushed her face in her plate. Lucy raised her head slowly, wet pasta dripping from her mouth and nose, and gave Andrea a killer look. She took a handful of pasta from the serving dish and threw it as Andrea. The pasta splattered all over her my wife’s face and the front of her dress, dripping unto her lap.Roger and I retreated to the other end of the table and quickly took off our tie, shoes and shirt. We were about to strip off our trousers when Andrea, who had walked around the table, reached Lucy. We suspended our strip and watched the women engage in a hair-pulling stand-up confrontation. They were half-covered in pasta but they didn’t seem to mind. We managed to get stark naked by the time they both fell to the floor, shrieking and cursing at each other. We walked over to the catfight. Roger managed to reach under his wife’s dress and pull off.
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