InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Listening to the news! Again?"

It's Brittany, Bitch | Ερις (eristic) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2010-10-26 16:58:00

Entry tags:

eris, veles

Who: Kaminski and Charlie
What: Hate. Lots and lots of hate.
Where: Snake Pit Ale House
When: Same day as the Charger's loss
Warnings: Where there is Charlie, profanity runs rampant. I apologize to all those who have virgin ears. As for whatever else, I'll let you know.

The Snake Pit was a decent place to hang out after work. Charlie had started frequenting the corner bar a few weeks after starting at Pep Boys; her co-workers often went there and she had followed suit. Charlie, needing company? Forgo the idea, she was only in it for the alcohol. The others she worked with treated her like one of the guys anyway, and it gave her some routine. Not that she was all about routine these days, but she was trying to make an effort to look like a normal person. No one had stamped FELON across her forehead, no, she scared others away just with the scowl on her face.

Taking a worn-looking seat at the bar, she set her helmet on the stool next to her and the messenger bag plopped on the floor. Frank, the bartender, nodded at her - holy hell, she was becoming a regular. It had been years, but, hey, it felt good. And after all the shenanigans at the apartment building, it was good to feel good. No psychotic thoughts, no need to sink nails into flesh or feel blood... Ok, stop stop stop stop, she muttered insider her mind, though outwardly she was still as pissed looking as ever.

"Guinness and a meatball sandwich, I'm starving," she rattled off. At least her meals weren't regular, if you could call trying various combinations of beer and sandwiches nonroutine. But the food at the Snake Pit was better than anything she'd ever eaten in prison.

"Tough day?" She rolled her eyes at Frank's inquiry, though by now he knew it for the sarcastic gesture that it always was. The bar was rarely busy, another thing in its favor in Charlie's eyes, and Frank...well, Frank was a bit of a chatter box.

"No more than usual. Some idiot tryin' to tell me how to fix his fuckin' muffler. All worried that I'd scratch the paint or something - insisted on standing around the entire time. These people and their precious Prius', I swear," she replied, her tone slow and even. Ready for a relaxing evening enjoying some tunes from the jukebox (currently playing "Sweet Child O'Mine," one of Charlie's favorites) and chowing down in relative peace.

"I don't know if I hate electric cars or not. It just ain't the same, you know?" Frank slid the beer towards her with a nod, and she grabbed it from the counter, lifting it to her lips to take a sip, her eyes rising to take a glance at the screen, where the Patriots were soundly beating the Chargers.

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head_down
2010-10-28 04:15 am UTC (link)

Kaminski didn't seem to register his surroundings as he all but fell through the door of the bar, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. He spotted the counter and made a beeline for the nearest bar stool, sitting down halfway before standing up again to crack his back. He'd only been able to wrangle up one friend to help him move, and they'd learned the hard way that crappy furniture did not necessarily equal lightweight furniture. Kind of the opposite, actually.

Finally he settled on the stool, and Frank decided it was safe to approach. "What'll you have?"

"I'll have a Stone IPA and a..." He squinted at the menu. "What the hell is a 'Johnny Burger'?"

"It's just a hamburger."

"Well then why don't you just call it a hamburger?"

The bartender shrugged. "We just don't. Do you want one?"

Kaminski looked personally affronted. Or perhaps his lower back muscles were spasming again. "Yeah fine, give me a Johnny Burger with some Johnny Bacon and hold the Johnny Ketchup. Does my beer have a first name too, or are we not that familiar yet?"

Frank, who'd obviously dealt with far more obnoxious customers in his time, just rolled his eyes and served Kaminski his beer. "Pff, Johnny Burger," he muttered to no one in particular as he glanced at the other bar patron out of the corner of his eye. Oh, hey, hot chick. With a bike helmet. How had he not noticed that? Must've been in more pain than he realized.

The last notes of "Sweet Child of Mine" finally faded as Kaminski sipped his beer, only to be replaced by Rod Stewart singing "Forever Young". He winced and placed the glass against his temple; maybe if his headache eased up the music would be less grating (what part of him was not in pain today?). "I hate you, Rod Stewart. I hate you so fucking much."

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eristic
2010-10-28 07:12 pm UTC (link)

Charlie took another sip of her beer, regarding the newcomer with a somewhat suspicious eye that descended from watching the game reluctantly - somebody new, in her territory, that would never do. Regardless of the fact that she herself was still pretty new, but he was newer and that made him a prime target. Though whether Charlie would go out of her way to do anything to the poor guy was still something that was under consideration. She almost cracked a smile at his issue with the bar's notoriously named Johnny Burger, her face remained stoic. The hate for Rod Stewart made a brow rise, though, because there was no love lost between her and the 70's singer.

"That guy's hair looks like a rat's nest," she commented off-handedly. "I know it was the 70's, but damn." Like she was one to talk, what with Axel Roses' recent venture into cornrows, but she'd defend Guns 'n' Roses to the death. Her legs were a little spread, back hunched and leather jacket still on - she was lax to remove it when away from her apartment, perhaps out of an unconscious fear that someone would steal it or ruin it, or whatever. Charlie would never cop to having anything that meant something to her. Her boots rested comfortably on the floor, one hand clutching her beer while she waited on her sandwich. The guy looked like he was in pain - whether that stemmed from a hangover or some other reason was beyond her knowledge and caring, though she had to wonder how many bars he'd stumbled through before ending up at this one. She could remember nights (and days) like that, though, as before, it'd been years.

"Though anything's better than that Lady Gaga shit. Seriously, fuckin' tranny attention whore."

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head_down
2010-10-31 04:14 am UTC (link)

"Oh yeah totally," Kaminski replied entirely too quickly. "I am so sick of hearing that shit just... everywhere. It's insidious."

Panic subsiding, his brain was able to process the fact that Biker Chick was talking to him. She'd mentioned something about Rod Stewart's hair and the 70s, and he latched onto that. "But yeah. Rod Stewart. And the 70s. Basically nothing good came out of the 70s. I'm glad I didn't exist for most of them."

Kaminski paused to consider his glass, as the part of his brain that still knew how to socialize told him that most women (most people) did not respond well to excessive negativity.

He decided to kill that part of his brain with alcohol and took a few more swigs of beer. "I hate the 80s too. Regan. Fucking yuppies. The war on drugs. 'Kokomo'. I hate so many things."

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eristic
2010-10-31 06:03 pm UTC (link)

It seemed like he was having a difficult time stringing two words together, but honestly, Charlie had spent most of her life in bars anyway so it didn't really bother her. Taking another drink of her beer, she considered his words.

"Yeah, 80s were bad, but 90s grunge? Just...no." Her face scrunched at the distasteful image of plaid, sweat, and stringy, unwashed hair. She'd never been that big on plaid anyway.

"Sounds like a fun way to go through life. Hating," she commented sarcastically, and then her meatball sandwich arrived. She took a bite of it, enjoying the taste of sauce and meatball, and continued talking with the food in her mouth. "Lushes are some of the most hateful people..."

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head_down
2010-11-01 01:22 am UTC (link)

"They are, aren't they? It's almost as if excessive alcohol consumption and anger issues were related, somehow," he said, contributing to the mutual exchange of sarcasm. "In my defense, though, I'm just a part-time lush. The anger's a natural talent."

He was gazing longingly at the meatball sandwich when a waitress appeared with the so-called Johnny Burger. He analyzed it, searching out the part of the burger where the bacon was concentrated, and took a bite. "Mmmm." He sighed, and muttered to the burger. "I could never be angry at you. Even if you have a stupid name."

With the edge taken off his hunger, Kaminski glanced back at Biker Chick. "I guess it's too bad I don't have your sunny disposition."

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eristic
2010-11-01 09:39 pm UTC (link)

She gave a half-snorted laugh at his coo to the burger, putting a hand over her mouth to not send food flying. Thankfully, she finished chewing her food before retorting.

"You should quit your day job now, and just take it up full time." Another bite of meatball sandwich silenced her for a moment, and then she lifted her beer to her mouth once more. "Working is so fucking overrated." She gave a half-hearted shrug to Frank's glare. Charlie had never been one to hold down a nine to five, but circumstances were forcing her to change her mind on the subject, at least in outward appearances.

"Sunny and I don't belong in the same sentence. Good try, though," she finished, taking another bite, elbows on the counter, sarcasm drowning any thought of an actual compliment.

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head_down
2010-11-05 04:41 am UTC (link)

"Sorry, I sometimes confuse 'sunny' with 'blazing hellfire'. Either's good though."

He raised his glass in a half-toast to blazing hellfire, clearly a lot happier with the world now that he had food in his stomach. Relatively speaking, at least.

"And I can't quit my day job. I'd go broke trying to get by on my good looks and charm. Where do you work that's so awful anyway?"

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eristic
2010-11-06 03:40 am UTC (link)

Thankfully she decided to finish chewing first, the taste of meatball sandwich being far more alluring than answering his question. Swallowed, and mustered up the most disgusted voice she could manage.

"Pep Boys," she responded, then took another bite of her sandwich. All in all, it wasn't that bad. Really, she was doing something she was good at (well, the only thing she was good at) and for the most part, her boss didn't push her around all that much. Might have been the glaring that took care of that, but Charlie didn't care. It was more the 'be here at this hour and stay for this long and deal with the shittastic customers' that irritated her. But a lot of things irritated Charlie.

"S'little better than retail, but I'd probably put my fist through someone's face on the first day," she added, mouth full. The words were still mostly intelligible, though.

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