It All Went Down at the Whistling Fart ~ April Writing Madness, Day Seven!

 

Several cars were parked out the front of the bogan’s house, as usual. The house was silent, eerie, no smashes or crashes or thuds or screams, and there was no music so they weren’t having a party, but they seemed to receive a great influx of similarly bogan people each and every day, at all hours. They were probably drug dealers. Jenny flared her nostrils and kept walking. That would not surprise her, not one bit.

Small drips of green paint guided her back into the town centre, the residue akin to a trail of breadcrumbs that led her away from doom and destruction and towards… well, drinks and destruction. But this was a destruction worthy of her.

Music blared from inside the Whistling Fart’s open doors — its welcoming arms — and invited her inside. The last time she had been at the pub was during her old company’s Christmas break-up party… little did she know that it was actually a break up party, and wasn’t just for the holidays.

Sidling up to the bar, she ordered the first of many dollar drinks and sculled it down. The bartender chuckled and gave her a cheerful, flirty smile.

“Having a rough day, love?” he said, portraying the stereotype of every bartender in every movie she had ever seen.

“You could say that.” Jenny raised her empty glass into the air. “The first one goes down quick so the others go down slick.”

“I get it, I get it.” The bartender laughed and gave her a double nip in the next pour. With a wink he handed it to her. “Enjoy.”

She would. Oh, yes she would.

Taking her glass, she cast an eye around the establishment. It was only just opening for the night-crowd and two staff members were clearing away the seating from the dance floor where during the day lunchgoers would be served. Apparently they served a mean ‘Beef n Beer’ for lunch, though she wasn’t entirely sure she’d want to eat food from a place called ‘The Whistling Fart.’

The place had changed quite a bit since the last time she had been there. In the corner of the building, where there had been several Pinball and Pokies machines, was now a full-fledged gaming corner complete with mini computers and very comfortable-looking couches. A small crowd gathered around the area, drinking and laughing as they played old classics like Super Mario and Zombies Ate My Neighbours. What a fantastic business idea! That was certainly a way to bring in more people. No one really cared about playing drunken Pinball these days, but cashing in on their patrons’ nostalgia? That was genius.

More and more people soon entered and filled the pub to the brim as she continued partaking in her delicious dollar drinks. This place was the only option for night-life in town so always did well on Friday nights. She was lucky she had gotten there early or she would be standing the whole night. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom any time soon, she was loathe to give up her seat. Barseats with bed-pans, there was an idea! She smirked to herself as she downed another drink. That one had been another sneaky double. She liked this bartender.

“Hey! Aren’t you the chick that had paint thrown on her earlier?”

A man pushed in beside her, then she paled as she recognised him. The man from the Divine Touch. Darren. He smiled awkwardly at her as her eyes widened, obviously aware that she remembered him. How could she forget?

“Yep. That was me.” She shot him a glare. “Aren’t you the owner of the dick at the Divine Touch?”

He chuckled, though there was no humour behind it, and he quickly looked away, not wanting to meet her gaze.

“Rum or scotch?”

“Bourbon.”

He ordered two drinks and pushed one towards her.

“Yeah… so… I’m, uh, sorry about that.” He took a long deep drink and sat the half-empty glass down on the bar. “But, I was handed a good thousand dollars to do it, and, well, I’m sorry, but for that cash I’d totally do it again.”

“A thousand dollars?” Jenny grip tightened around her glass. “You got handed a thousand fucking dollars to ask for a happy ending?” Her memory zoomed back to that day and how she and Joey had gone to Uncle Blair’s and how she had seen Joey palm money to the guy. Taking another swig, she said, “And just how did you know it was me you were supposed to do that to and not some other worker there?”

“The guy said you were new.” He shrugged, draining the last of his drink in one large mouthful. “Newbies at the Touch are cheaper than the pros, so I asked for the newbie.”

“Joey, fucking Joey,” she spat, draining her own glass.

“Yeah, that’s the guy. Want another?”

“I think you owe me a few more, and Joey owes me a thousand.”

“Nice try,” he shouted as the music suddenly blared louder. “Fine, two more.” And ordered for her. “Good luck with your friend.” Grabbing a complimentary bowl of pretzels, he headed over to the ever-growing crowd by the mini computers.

Joey. It was always Joey. He had waggled his eyebrows knowingly as she cried out her story to him about what had happened to her at the Divine Touch. He had ruined her hair before she started at Blair’s. He had gotten her fired for his toilet paper shenanigans. He’d had paint thrown all over her as she was job hunting.

“Maybe I don’t want you to move out,” he had said, before she had stormed off. Why couldn’t he have just told her that to begin with instead of sabotaging her life and making her miserable? Or maybe he had and she hadn’t been listening because she was so eager to try and resume her old life as quickly as possible and to stop feeling as though she were encroaching on his space. That still didn’t give him the right to treat her this way though! Even if he was cute and forgivable. Imagine paying someone over a week’s earnings to request a handjob and send them running, screaming from their first day at a job. Well, she hadn’t screamed, but she had wanted to.

Maybe she should just stay at Joey’s house. They had been friends for so many years and if it wasn’t for him ruining her job prospects, she would actually be enjoying her time with him. Maybe if she stopped talking so much about moving out as fast as she could, and just got a job so she could contribute as a proper housemate should, he would be happy and she could save enough money to one day buy her own house instead. That would be so epic. She should be utilising this time at Joey’s! Not trying to escape it.

All the bourbon she had drank suddenly assaulted her bladder and she leapt off the stool, running for the lady’s room. Now that she was upright, the alcohol rushed to her head and made the room spin circles, the colourful lights and music a glorious backdrop to the ethereal illusion that now surrounded her. It was such a wonderful feeling. She should do it more often. If she could afford to, she would.

Fumbling for her wallet, she whipped it open and stared at the two lonely dollars staring up at her. That wasn’t enough! Maybe Dicky Darren — she giggled at the new nickname she had bestowed him with — would be inclined to give her a couple more drinks. Maybe if she flirted a little… she had already seen his junk, after all; you were supposed to give drinks to a lady before doing that!

Stumbling back to the bar, she ordered another dollar bourbon and headed for the mini computers and the patrons surrounding them. Then the music turned off, The colourful lights transformed into a warm yellow, and a great outcry rose up as a group of police burst onto the premises.

“Everybody, out! Return to your homes!”

A collective groan rose up from the pubgoers but the officer in charge silenced them with a wave of his baton.

“In accordance with the Department of Health and Safety, home containment is being enforced. This is a public health emergency. If you can’t make it to your homes safely, you will be escorted. We have officers and health workers ready to assist you.”

Jenny blinked. Home containment? A public health emergency? On a Friday night? How much had Joey paid this time and how on earth had he managed to bribe the entire police department — the entire health department?

Pop. Pop-pop-pop. Bang!

The loud pops followed by a bang echoed through the building, seemed to have come from the gamer’s corner, and Jenny slowed turned her head to see which computer had exploded, but couldn’t see much beyond a haze of fuzzy green smoke.

A woman screamed, a man shouted, the police put up their faceshields and raced further onto the premises.

“Everybody, out, now!”

“Ohmygod, Jonathon!” Another woman shrieked.

“NOW!”

“Fucking Joey,” she slurred to herself, draining her glass as pandemonium unleashed all around her. “This is all his fault.”

“Ma’am, do you require an escort?”

One of the police officers ran towards her, his eyes round and scared.

“I’m not a ma’am,” Jenny mumbled, her cheeks reddening. “Ma’ams are old. I’m not old!”

“This one needs an escort!” The officer shouted, shoving her towards a person wearing full protective gear. “Get ‘er home.”

“You look like you’re wearing a garbage bag,” Jenny said, stumbling down the street with the person holding her arm to steady her.

“Just a precaution, ma’am,” the health worker replied. “Don’t want your guts all over me if you explode.”

“I’m not a ma’am!” Jenny yelled. The health worker didn’t respond but Jenny sensed the eyeroll behind the mask, even beneath the darkness of night. “How much did Joey pay you to force me home? What do you mean, explode?”

There was no response, only an impatient tightening around her wrist as the worker forced her to keep moving, and Jenny soon realised that she was leading the health worker and not the other way around. The woman had no idea where she lived and was just helping her. Public health emergency… green fuzz— no, it couldn’t be. Joey just wanted her home. That’s all it was.

Jenny practically fell into the house as the health worker shoved her inside and departed, saved in the nick of time by Joey’s outreached arms.

“You know,” he murmured, helping her to stand upright. “If you wanted to get plinked, I’ve still got a coupla bottles of Aunt Greta’s wine here.”

“But then I’d be here, wouldn’t I, and not at the pub, finding out all the juicy gossip,” she giggled. “Like you paying Darren to ask me for a happy ending! How much did you pay the police to shut down the pub?” She reached and poked his cheek. “Pokity poke!”

“I didn’t!” he protested, swatting her hand away. “I mean, yes, okay, I paid Darren, I admit it. But I didn’t pay anyone to shut down the pub.”

“Oh, stop lying.” Jenny grabbed his shoulder to steady herself and pushed herself up against him so that she could stare up into his eyes and flutter her eyelashes. “I get it, okay. You want me all to yourself.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“I don’t know!” Jenny waved a hand in the air then quickly clutched Joey’s shoulder again before she fell. “I had twelve dollars, now I have one dollar, and Darren gave me three drinks, and, oh,” she giggled. “The bartender! He gave me a few doubles because I think he liked me, and—“

“It’s been two hours and you’ve drunk that much? That’s nearly three quarters of a bottle!”

“It’s always been two hours!” She shouted. “I lasted two hours at the Divine Touch, and two hours at Blair’s, and two hours at the pub before you got it shut down.”

“I’ve done a lot of things, Jenny, but I did not get the pub shut down.”

Joey looked earnest and worried and sad all at once, all three expressions an unfamiliar sight on his usually mischievous and jovial face.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor, not wanting to see that look on his face. “Hey!” An arm went under her legs and another around her shoulders and she flailed as Joey picked her up and carried her up the stairs.

“You need to go to bed. I’ll leave some water for you.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Tell you what. I’ll get you into bed, and if you can get up again, you can do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” she whispered, then tried to punch him as she felt the safety of the bed beneath her.

He dodged her with ease and disappeared. A tap ran in the darkness, in the distance, sounding as though it were several houses away, then there was a clink on her bedside table as a glass of water magically appeared. She tried to reach for it but her arm was heavy and slumped down the side of the bed and she decided to just let it dangle there. Dangling felt good.

She wasn’t tired, but she didn’t have the strength to move; she was as a noodle, a soggy noodle adrift in a sea of bedsheets. How dare Joey deposit her here! She was a mere noodle now, and it was all, his, fault. Just like the fuzzy green smoke and the health officials at the pub.

Her eyes widened. Fuzzy green health officials. Had Blair’s prophecy manifested right before her eyes?

“Behold, the great fungus,” she whispered, then sniggled to herself as she descended into the depths of a dizzying darkness.

 

 
Helloooo! It's Day Seven of a sudden onset of Writing Madness -- a NaNoWriMo-inspired challenge that uses the daily #freewrite prompt to help create a full story within the confines of a mere month.

 

@mariannewest's prompt for today is ~ mini computer. Which I thought would be a good addition to the Whistling Fart. 😅 Who needs pinball and gambling machines when you can have mini computers with SNES games on them!

I also at last got in the 'residue' from yesterday's prompt. I had it in my head but couldn't fit it into any of the sentences until now.

I knew where I wanted to go with it yesterday, but my fingers just wouldn't type the words. Fixed that today! xD This writing is basically 'part 2' of yesterday's and together they'll make up a whole chapter. Woo!

Drunk Jenny is Fun Jenny. She was much more fun to write today than she usually is. xD I didn't quite get everything across that I wanted to, but, as usual, that can wait for the editing and refining stage.

 

This is a very rough first draft of an upcoming book and will be tidied up and polished after this Month of Madness is finished. 😊 It might read like fast-paced-rushed-word-garbage at the moment, but it will be refined! (I over-edit like a madwoman.)

Title is a placeholder and will probably not be the final name of the book. 🤣 This story has nothing much to do with whistling but the local pub is called the Whistling Fart, things will go down there, and there will likely be a terrible amount of fart jokes. Because I'm uncultured and farts are funny. 🤷‍♀
 

Today's wordcount is 2,333

Total wordcount is 16,131 / 50,000

 

📝 A Quick Blurb 📚

Genre: immature adult comedy, reverse coming-of-age, apocalyptic silliness
Warning: irreverent, offensive humour

Jenny is a young lady in her mid-20's who finds herself out of work, out of home, and out of luck. An old friend from school has invited her to stay at his house until she gets back on her feet, but she just can't seem to land on them.

Every job opportunity she finds goes spectacularly wrong. The Great Fungus is spreading across the world and consuming all in its path. Then, to top it off, a solar flare renders electricity a thing of the past.

Faced with the end of the world as she knows it, Jenny has a choice. Will she embrace this apocalyptic madness... or will she, too, be consumed by the fungus?
 

 

Thank you for reading! 📚😊

See you tomorrow for Day Eight! 📝🤓

 

---

 

_{Header image is courtesy of Pixabay, and was manipulated using the Deep Dream Generator.}