Here Comes Nobody

On the night in question a heavy squall was sitting just off the coast. Its winds whipped up the swell and rain and sea spray both spattered the pub’s windows. The crowd inside was small for a Saturday but loud thanks to many an unneeded drink being drunk while waiting to see if the weather would clear. It didn’t and Darren, the bouncer, was wet and cold and thinking quietly murderous thoughts when the door beside him swung open and a vision in jeans, stiletto boots and a short leather jacket stormed out onto the footpath. She was a tiny thing with a delicate north Italian look about her and as Darren stepped over to ask if she needed a taxi she turned to him with a pair of bright possum eyes that flashed so dangerously he stopped short. Without a word she was away up the street, paying the rain no mind.

Phil leant his chair back, craning his neck to watch her receding form through the window, and nearly toppled over as Smitty nudged his chair with his foot. He clutched at the air for a second then grabbed the table and grinned.

Cunt, he said. What was up her arse you reckon?

It’s hard to say, said Smitty. He paused and picked something out of his teeth. Pretty sure I pulled out in time but you never know.

I said up her arse, not Jason’s.

Smitty’s eyes narrowed slightly as they always did when he was assembling a retort and the corner of his mouth twitched. Before he could get it out Jason appeared at his elbow carrying the drinks.

My what? he asked.

Your mum, said Smitty, and reached for his rum and coke.

You’re slipping mate. Seen this cunt over here? He gestured towards a sorry looking creature standing slumped in the corner formed by the wall and the bar with his chin on his chest, unmoving except that his head was rocking from side to side vaguely in time to the music. Despite the weather he wore a t-shirt, board shorts and thongs. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

He looks proper fucked, said Phil. You know him?

Fuck no, Jason spat. You think I hang around dickheads like that? Fucking waste of oxygen. I was about ready to smack him one.

Smitty set his empty glass down and belched. I bet you were, he said. But at the risk of incurring your furious fists of righteous retribution myself, I feel I must ask why.

Phil snorted a laugh and Jason shot him a look before grinning himself. I was at the bar, he said, and this utter stunner comes up while I’m waiting. She’s this little wide-eyed brunette in a leather jacket open at the front with an Elmo t-shirt underneath. Great body and just a hint of a pout but those eyes—

Well how do you like that, said Smitty, cutting him off. We just saw her leave. Phil here was so smitten he nearly fell off his chair copping a perve.

Yeah? said Jason. Well that’s just tops. Anyway, neither of us said anything but we sort of gave each other a little smile, as you do. Next thing, this fuckwit stumbles over and starts trying to sidle up beside her, nearly knocking over a half a beer that was sitting there. He gets right up close to her and then just stands there not saying a word for a good minute or so. Meanwhile, she’s just staring straight ahead trying to ignore him. I was going to say something to him right then but the bar chick came over and—

Jess, said Phil.

What?

The girl behind the bar. Her name’s Jess.

Whatever. Anyway, she came over and asked what I wanted and I was in the middle of speaking to her when he said it so I didn’t hear all of it but basically, out of nowhere, when this chick obviously wanted nothing to do with him, he made a seriously fucking sleazy suggestion, the type of shit you just don’t say until you’ve got a girl actually undressed and into bed at the very least, and he might have grabbed her as well, I’m not sure, but next thing I know she’s calling him a fucking creep and heading for the door. Jason finally took his seat, having been standing all through his story, and drained a good half of his beer.

So what’d the guy actually say? asked Phil after a few moments of silence.

I told you, said Jason. I didn’t hear all of it, and I don’t really want to sit here and try to piece together this cunt’s grubby little thoughts but I heard enough to know it was filthy.

Smitty slammed his hand down hard on the table, sending several coasters flying to the floor and sloshing Phil’s beer all over the place.

Well hang it all man! he shouted, attracting several strange looks from around the pub. We can’t be expected to condemn the wretch on the basis of such poorly evidence! Are we but savages? Here stands the thin black line!

Trust me, said Jason. It was bad.

Oh, I trust that you think what you think you heard was bad.

Jason took issue at that and all three of them were soon deep in an argument over what he’d heard or almost heard or imagined he’d heard that rambled back and forth and around for a while until eventually the conversation just drifted away onto religion then rugby and finally renting versus buying in regional areas.

Though none of them made mention of the fact, throughout the banter and chatter all three threw an occasional quiet eye towards the figure slumped in the corner by the bar. For some time all he seemed capable of was a semi-rhythmical side-to-side rocking of his head, interrupted every now and then by an unsteady gulp from his visibly flat beer. The other patrons who came to the bar couldn’t help but notice the state he was in and though most just turned away with a smile and a shake of the head, one or two wore distinct expressions of disgust as they made their way back to their tables.

Eventually Smitty drew urgent attention to his empty glass and as Phil headed up to get the next round he brushed past an old man with taut leather-tanned skin clutching a fresh middy of black ale and muttering under his breath. Phil went to apologise but the old man just kept on past him, still muttering.

Jess was restocking the wine when he got to the bar and he waited quietly, watching her bent at her work, until she turned and noticed him there and stood up with a smile.

Hey, she said. What can I get you?

Two New’s and a rum and coke, thanks. Over her shoulder he could see the paralytic in his corner feeling along the bar for his drink. Hey, did you see what happened with that guy over there and the girl who just ran out?

I think she caught him looking down her top or something. She set the beers on the bar and grinned. Not that you can blame him. I could barely keep my eyes up myself. He needs to work on being a bit more subtle though. And a rum and coke was it?

Yeah, cheers. Has he said anything to you?

Oh, just the usual shit. It’s hard to understand some of what he’s saying but I’m pretty sure he asked if I wanted to meet up with him in the keg room. I would have cut him off but every time he buys a beer he hands over a twenty and then just walks away. Plus, he’s actually pretty cute. Drunk as a skunk, but cute. That’s sixteen-sixty thanks.

Phil arrived back with the drinks and a set to his jaw. Smitty and Jason were both leaning in over the table peering intently at something he couldn’t quite see, their heads bowed deep in discussion. Smitty looked up and waved him over quickly.

Here, check this out, he said and held up the coaster they’d been studying. It featured the scene of a catastrophic car wreck and a slogan warning against drink driving. Look familiar?

Phil shrugged. What?

Here, said Smitty, pointing to the figure of a female paramedic kneeling to lift the corner of the tarpaulin that covered the place where the passenger door should have been. Tell me that’s not the spitting bloody image of Jase’s sister.

Before Phil could get a good look Jason snatched the coaster away. He stared hard at it for a few seconds, putting it at arms length then moving it right up to his nose, then tossed it aside.

Mate, he said. You really have lost the fucking plot. Sometimes I could swear you’re just a hop, skip and a jump away from shaving your ears off, smearing your shit all over the walls and calling yourself Van Gogh. She’s got at least twenty years on Amy and she’s Asian for fuck’s sake.

Smitty closed his eyes and sighed and was about to reply but Phil spared him the trouble.

You’re both fucking batshit, he said. But I’m starting to think we should maybe do something about this pisshead up at the bar. Apparently he’s been making an arse of himself bothering the poor girl trying to work. What do they pay this Darren cunt for anyway?

Jason’s eyes lit up over the rim of his glass and while trying to get the beer down and nod his enthusiasm at the same time he managed to choke and spat foam over the table then doubled over coughing.

Shit yeah, he finally wheezed. I was gonna say the same thing before. I say just walk him out back into the car park and give him one or two to think about.

Fuck that, it’s pissing down out there.

What, you want to just walk up and deck him? You don’t shit where you drink.

Well, let’s just give Darren a tap on the shoulder and say this bloke’s been harassing women and could you please get him the fuck out.

Nah, this cunt’s filth. He needs a lesson. Maybe we could just take him into the toilets for a friendly chat. We’d be out of sight and you wouldn’t have to get your little toesies wet.

The three of us herding him into the bathroom might look a little suss though, don’t you think? And what if there’s people in there?

They fell silent and pensive and one by one they turned to regard the wretched looking figure across the room. He was still slumped with his head on his chest but now his lips were moving and a frown knotted his forehead as though he were struggling against a more articulate antagonist in some internal debate or maybe mumbling through the lyrics of a half-remembered song. Milling about at the bar was a group of half a dozen women of all ages who had been there since early afternoon and lacked only matching pink boas or novelty dildo cocktail stirrers to complete the illusion of a tragically provincial hen’s night and a few of them were glancing over at him and exchanging whispers. A crooked smile crept up Smitty’s right cheek.

I’ve got a better idea, he said and he told them about a story he’d heard from his brother about a prank they’d pulled on one of their friends who had gone and got himself obliterated early on in the evening when things were still only just warming up. They switched his beer with a schooner of piss while he was busy arguing with the bar tender and the whole pub watched in hushed expectation as the victim, drunk as he was, failed to notice and took a big swig of fresh urine. His brother had gone into great detail, which Smitty relayed now with only minor embellishment, in describing the rapid kaleidoscope of expressions that played across the poor bloke’s face in the first few seconds after it passed his lips and the corresponding reactions of the witnesses who were at first in shock before a sense of almost wonder set in and finally all erupted with cheers and howls of laughter and squeals and retching.

By the end of Smitty’s story Phil was frowning speculatively and Jason wore a wide grin.

So what happens after? said Phil.

Smitty and Jason shared a puzzled look then turned to him.

What do you mean after? said Jason.

Well, once that’s all done we’ve still got a drunk fuckwit standing at the bar harassing people and likely very bloody pissed off to boot. If anything we’d have just made it worse.

Jason looked incredulous.

Seriously? I didn’t know you’d gone and signed up for the fun police. Well fuck, once it’s done we’ll go and grab Darren and get him chucked out. How’s that?

Fine, said Phil.

Smitty leaned in and beckoned them close with a conspiratorial air. The plan then gentlemen, he said and in a faux whisper that could’ve been heard three tables over had there been anybody that close he began laying out a strategy. The other two listened attentively, nodding and asking the occasional question and then when the plan had been set out in full they offered a few suggestions and soon it was settled.

The rain was coming down harder and drumming heavy against the windows and the cautious vanguard of a puddle was creeping beneath the front door. A dance tune from a few years ago was on the jukebox and Phil was forced to skirt around several middle-aged couples grinding up against one another to the lewd rhythms of the bass as he once again made his way to the bar.

Jess saw him coming and paused from wiping up a spill on the bar top. She stood with her boyish hip cocked and the lank washcloth she still clutched dripped something dark down her leg below her shorts.

Same again? she asked with a smile.

No, I was just wondering if I could get an empty schooner glass.

She reached for the rack by her side but he stopped her with a gesture and nodded towards the fridge at the back.

Reckon I could grab a cold one? As cold as possible would be great.

I’ve got all the designs done up, said Smitty once Phil had left. How are the floor plans coming?

Jason shrugged.

Slowly, he said. They’ve just passed new changes to the legislation on fire exists so I have go back and make sure we’re in line with that.

Smitty nodded slowly then tilted back a long sip of beer without moving his head.

How’s Melissa? asked Jason. She still on the pipe?

Smitty’s eyes instantly brimmed with murder as they snapped around but it had all but slipped away by the time he met Jason’s gaze.

No, he said. Not right now.

Are you?

Smitty grinned.

Wouldn’t you like to know, he said. You oughta give it a try you boring cunt. Come on.

Jason followed as Smitty sauntered across the room towards the drunken sot in the corner who stood now with his eyes closed and his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open performing a swaying little side-to-side dance. Smitty strode straight up to him and stopped little more than a metre away. He leant against the bar staring the stranger full in the face and waiting with a little smile to be noticed. Jason slid past them both and stood with his back resting against the wall. They remained this way for almost a minute until the dance song on the jukebox ended and the gentle opening notes of an old power ballad brought the drunk’s little dance to an end. Without opening his eyes he fell back into the corner with a thud. Smitty’s smile grew wider and he moved in even closer, still without a word.

Jason rolled his eyes. Oi! he said, then leaned over to give the unresponsive form beside him a shake. Oi, dickhead! The eye nearest him flickered open a crack.

Fuck you, came the slow and slurred reply. The other eye opened and slid around to find Smitty. And the dickhead you rode in on.

His face crinkled up and from the back of his throat came a spit-filled panting sound that could have been a laugh and then he stopped and held up an unsteady hand palm outwards.

No offence no offence ’sall fun and games. Shits and giggles you fuck you. It was unclear whether he was speaking to one or the other or both of them. Again he shook with apparent laughter.

None taken you giggling shit you, said Smitty and he was grinning now. Cheers to fun and games and guns and fame.

Jason looked from one to the other and back again and shook his head.

Jesus Christ, he muttered.

He wandered off to grab a stool and when he came back Smitty was struggling to extract the name of his new friend from meandering and only occasionally coherent responses. Unable to get a straight answer, he finally dipped a finger in his beer and marked a cross on the nameless forehead.

And thus by this frothy cross do I christen thee Dribbles, he intoned with a solemnity Jason was tempted to credit as genuine.

With an air of equanimity seemingly at odds with his inability to stand straight Dribbles nodded his approval of this new name.

You’re right of course you’re right. Time for a new one and not a second too soon a second one or a third one. Who the fuck cares? Begone!

Not bad, said Jason. But I think I’ll stick with dickhead.

Smitty sighed.

Listen Dribbles, he said. My mate here was witness to a little incident just before involving yourself and a nubile young nymph at the bar, the ultimate unfortunate result of which was her swift exit from these here premises, forestalling my friend’s as yet unmentioned but unquestionably intended attempts at copulation with her and thus leading to an extensive and apparently quite painful knotting of his knickers.

He gave Jason a sly look out of the corner of his eye and received a wanking motion in reply.

Hence the hostility, he continued. But we’re stuck for a few details.

Yeah the devil’s in the details, Dribbles admitted. And Billy’s down by the bay. Yeeaaaahhhh!

Well, do you reckon you could fill us in at all?

Fill youse in. With what?

With what you said to that girl.

What girl?

You know. She was in a leather jacket and jeans. Brunette. Had an arse like a ripe peach. Made you want to take a big bite out of it and let the juice run all down your chin. Little ski-jump nose. Big bright eyes. Pretty hard to forget.

Hey you saw her too? Shit. I wasn’t sure you know. One minute she’s there and then she’s gone and I thought maybe she wasn’t all there like. Yeah. But Christ. What a creature eh?

Jason snorted.

She’s there and then she’s gone coz she caught a big whiff of creep you silly cunt.

C’mon, said Smitty. What’d you say to get her to lose it like that?

Dribbles frowned like he was confused.

Nah I just couldn’t you know I wanted to but. Too much. Body and soul so hungry I go crazy. Over your leather boots. Ha! But nah I couldn’t say word one I couldn’t go over she was too much too much too much too beautiful.

Jason gave him a sceptical sideways look. You mean you don’t even remember speaking to her?

What? No. Did I? Shit. Kudos to me eh? Man of the hour.

Jason was set to pour ice-cold water on all the self-congratulation when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see that Phil had quietly sidled up and stood beside Smitty with one hand behind his back.

Smitty threw him a broad wink and turned to Phil.

Phil, he said. It gives me great pleasure to present to you Sir Dribbles the Dickhead, Fourth Hurl of Inebria. Dribbles, Phil.

The switch itself went off without a hitch. Smitty beckoned Jess over while Jason was grilling Dribbles over the actual state of his memory and told her what was happening in a few close whispers. When he was finished she nodded and went off with a little smile. Their plan had been for Phil and Jason to run interference while Smitty switched the drinks but as Jess was walking away Phil came up and whispered urgently into Smitty’s ear.

Listen, why don’t you and Jason do the distracting and I’ll make the switch. I’ve never seen you do anything quiet and you and him look like you’re getting on like a house on fire anyway.

Smitty shrugged. Fair call, he said and moved over to where Jason and Dribbles were quibbling over whether or not the girl who had stormed out was likely a lesbian. He threw an arm around each of their necks and drew them in together, suggesting they cease their petty bickering, which only served to harden a man’s heart against his brother, and instead all bow their heads and close their eyes and from the bottom of their hearts humbly beseech whatever God they might care to call on to grant that she be bi.

While the three of them were at prayer Phil set a glass just under half full of his pale yellow piss on the bar. He looked at it critically for a moment then took up the beer Dribbles had been nursing and poured a little over to add some carbonation and get the colour close enough that it could at least pass for cider. When he was satisfied he took what was left of Dribbles’ beer around to the front of the bar and passed it across to Jess. She gave him a serious wink and tapped a purple nailed finger against her nose.

With everything in place a certain tension grew throughout the pub. Jess had spread word of what was being planned to a few of the other patrons and whispers and covert looks were multiplying. Anticipation mounted as the minutes ticked by. Jason was finally starting to make some headway in his pursuit of exactly what Dribbles had said. He’d extracted a vague acknowledgement of having talked to the girl and was pressing his advantage while Dribbles sat swaying and squinting in an apparent attempt at intense concentration, leaving the drink ignored on the bar behind him.

Do you remember acting a sleaze when she clearly didn’t want to talk to you? Jason insisted.

Smitty cleared his throat pointedly.

I dunno, said Dribbles, after some consideration. But I think it’s like you shouldn’t ever let any beautiful go past without saying thanks or something at least. Yeah. ’Sall gone or going or on the way out or costs too fucking much. Nothing’s free. Specially not beautiful. Somewhere somehow some poor cunt’s paying so you gotta least say thanks you know?

I’m pretty fucking sure you didn’t say anything like—

Well I for one think such a touching sentiment demands a toast, interrupted Smitty and raised his glass.

Jason glared at him then turned away muttering something about trust and the thin black line.

Dribbles had found his glass by now and raised it up with Smitty’s.

But listen, he said and lowered it again. Listen. Listen. Anyway tell her sorry for me would you?

Sure, sure, said Smitty. But it’s all in the past now. C’mon, drink up and forget it.

Dribbles sighed and nodded and put the glass to his lips and took a long slow sip. He swallowed once then twice then stopped. He made a face and held the glass unsteadily at arm’s length to study it for a few seconds.

The pub was hushed with a barely suppressed nervous energy as they awaited his reaction. Smitty wore a pained expression due to the strain of keeping a lid on the laughter bubbling up his throat. He glanced over at Phil and was surprised by the naked intensity with which he was watching. Jason stood by looking sullen and slightly bored.

Dribbles frowned at the glass in his hand for another second or two and then they all watched in a state of surreal shock as he shrugged and drained it with a single swallow. Someone towards the back of the room let loose a solitary laugh. Nobody else made a sound. As Dribbles set the glass back on the bar a strange look passed across his face. He clutched his stomach and Smitty and Phil both shifted slightly and tensed ready to avoid any projectile vomit but he simply belched and grinned.

Alright, he said. ’Nother one. C’mon. Who’s up for another one?

The three co-conspirators looked at one another and each saw only blank mirrors of his own bewilderment. Jess and the rest of the witnesses continued to wait on tenterhooks for the dawning realisation and the fireworks but as Dribbles surged to his feet and stumbled past his companions and around to the front of the bar to order more drinks the excitement evaporated, leaving only a stale residue of tension. Most of them slowly returned to their own conversations with the uncomfortable feeling that they’d been duped.

After a minute or so of stunned silence Jason turned to Smitty with a wry smile.

Well that was a fizzer, he said.

Smitty nodded slowly. He picked up the empty glass from the bar and gave it a tentative sniff then put it back, shaking his head.

Un-fucking-believable, he mused. I never would have thought it was actually humanly possible to get that drunk.

Phil stood off to the side and fidgeted with a coaster as he watched Dribbles lean across the bar and say something that gave Jess cause to blush and grin. From this distance he couldn’t make out what it was over the music.

So what now? he asked suddenly.

What now? echoed Smitty. Well, that’s the eternally recurring question, isn’t it young Philip? Right now I need a drink and a slap like a Chinaman needs chopsticks.

But we can’t just leave it at that, Phil protested. Weren’t we supposed to be teaching him a lesson or something? There’s no point if he’s clueless to the whole deal. Plus, everybody else probably reckons we were bullshitting.

Smitty sighed and laid a paternal hand on his shoulder.

I hate to say it, he said. But I think the sly fox has foiled us my man. The show’s over and besides, if he can’t taste the difference between beer and piss right now he’s barely gonna remember his name tomorrow, let alone any high jinks we get up to from here on in. C’est la vie, the serenity prayer, shit happens, etcetera.

There’s gotta be something, said Phil. He surveyed the room and saw several groups starting to gather up their things and prepare makeshift protection from the rain and he clenched his jaw.

Jason too was looking towards the door. He yawned impressively.

I’m gonna grab Darren, he said. Let’s make sure this cunt’s gone and then head.

You can if you want, said Smitty. Me and that bottle of rum behind the bar still have some unfinished business and my slapping finger’s itchy. Come and watch me lose some money?

Jason shook his head. I’ve got footy tomorrow.

Smitty shrugged.

Call me when you’re done, he said. We have to get that loan sorted.

He spread his arms wide and bowed as he turned and headed for a doorway at the back of the room from which the ubiquitous melodies of the pokies issued. Phil and Jason both watched him go then stood together in silence for a moment. An old rock standard was on the jukebox but Jess had turned the volume right down. It was getting late. Eventually Jason cleared his throat and turned to leave.

Alright mate, he said. I’ll see ya.

Phil wavered for a moment. Wait, he blurted out. Don’t say anything to Darren just yet. I’m staying for a bit and I’ll sort it out before I go.

Jason stopped and turned to him incredulous. Christ, let it go mate. It’s over.

Just give me a little while, Phil pleaded. I’ll figure something out. You said it yourself, this cunt’s filth.

Yeah, and you said we had to make sure to get him kicked out. Now you want to keep him in here longer. So?

Phil fumbled around for a reply and as he watched him struggle Jason’s expression softened to a look almost like pity.

Look, he said. Fine. Whatever. Good luck I guess. He gave a little half wave and without looking back was gone out into the night.

Phil took a deep breath and headed back to the table they’d been at earlier. He still had most of a beer left and for a while he sat watching the bubbles rise irrepressibly one after another to expire at the surface. Nothing in the way of a plot or scheme seemed willing to come to him. He finished the beer and went to get another. He picked a new spot towards the back where he could watch the whole room. The last few groups were getting ready to leave. He saw Smitty come out of the pokies room and head for the door but he didn’t call out. Dribbles was still up at the bar, apparently chatting away to thin air while Jess emptied the tills.

Phil was still sitting and watching from a distance and putting every stray thought he could into coming up with a way to enact some sort of humiliation when a large figure in a heavy jacket entered the now almost empty pub. He walked up and put a firm hand on the back of Dribbles’ neck and whispered something into his ear. Dribbles looked confused and a little upset at having to leave his drink unfinished but nonetheless he let himself be steered towards the door and out into the rain.

Phil sat by powerless as the two men went out. He looked around the room and he and Jess were the only ones left. With nothing else to do he drained the last of his beer and went up and put his empty glass on the bar. Jess was wiping down the sink and bobbing her head to the music still coming softly through the speakers. She didn’t seem to notice him and he hesitated only a moment before he turned a little unsteadily and headed for the door and home.

Darren’s hair was saturated and plastered against his forehead in dank clumps. He kept his head bowed and studied the hulking shape of the big V8 that crouched a little way down on the other side of the street, facing his way. For some reason he hadn’t seen it arrive but it had caught his eye when the interior light came on and the diver’s door opened to emit a large man out into the rain. In that moment he’d thought he’d seen a figure sitting in the passenger seat but he couldn’t be sure at such a distance and as soon as the door swung shut the dark windows were impenetrable. The man had crossed the street and come towards him and as he got level with the pub the light spilling from the windows lit up the left side of his face, which was roughly lined and pitted but somehow still quite young looking. He’d thought for a moment of refusing the man entry. He was soaked through and thoroughly cold and if there were still people inside buying drinks the place would stay open another hour at least but a quick glance inside told him there were a couple of people still drinking anyway. They exchanged nods as the man went past him and inside.

He dug his hands deep into his pockets and kept his head bowed. It wasn’t long before the door opened again and the same bloke came out with a young guy in shorts and thongs and they headed down the street away from the car. The young guy was drunk and stumbling a bit and the older one held him steady with a hand on the back of his neck. They went down the street a way and then just before their silhouettes were absorbed into the night they turned and disappeared.

By now the car and the idea of some passenger invisible and watching was making him uncomfortable. He checked his watch for the third time in five minutes then glanced inside again. The last customer looked like he was heading for the door. Darren smiled to himself then froze. Muffled though it was by the wind and the rain, the crack that rent the night air was clearly distinct from the still distant thunder and was unmistakeable as a gunshot. The headlights of the big V8 lit up the rain as it rumbled into life and pulled out into the street.