The Neon Flux - Essay

MACK'S STORY

     The Neon Flux is what the sign read.  Of course, the sign wasn't neon, it was wood; probably oak.  A small warn rectangular sign with the corners cut out in a circular style.  It was fastened to the old brick building by a twisted piece of metal, and reminded me of something you might make in shop class during the fourth grade.  The building itself was shabby, but then so was the whole town.  The only difference was that this building had its windows darkened in.

     Whatchamatunk, Maine.  I said the name over and over to myself.  How the hell did I ever end up here, and standing outside The Neon Flux of all places.  A shitty place for a shitty life, I guess.  The Neon Flux, it sounds like a gay strip club, but then I don't think they have many gays in Maine.  Only inbreeds, and they, I hope, don't go out much.  My thirst for a pint must have been getting to me because I decided to go in.

     Pushing open the door, it let out a loud, slow, pained squeal.  I noticed one thing right off, I had been right about it being a nudy bar.  A straight one to my great relief.  Not a very good one however, there didn't seem to be a stage, the woman danced on the floor in the middle of the room.  She was a chubby, bleach blonde who had the look of someone in her sixties, and gravity had not been kind.

     The whole place is ones big room.  As I've already said, with the stripper in the center.  I found out later, that she goes by the name of Lady Gadivia.  She gyrated and moved, well basically spilled, back and forth to the sounds of real hillbilly country music; that fell flat out of some of the oldest speakers I have ever seen, placed un-strategically in the background.  It was the real stuff, not the Garth Brook's country music you here on the radio, but the shit you'd imagine the Hatfield's and McCoy's listened to before they went out and shot the fuck out of each other.

     Lady Gadivia was one of two dancers this place had.  Her shift went Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the other one, whose name I didn't get, danced the others days of the week.  Anyway, she danced in the center of this place surrounded by a ring of chairs.  Beyond the chairs, tables were set up, the small square ones that have the Formica tops, the ones you could find in any school cafeteria.  There was a bar set up in the front corner, just to the left of the door.  The floor was covered in saw dust, and the ceiling was rotting away.  The walls were barren, no pictures, no posters, no windows, no nothing, just a faded yellow paint job.

LADY GADIVIA'S STORY

     Wednesday night, and there's only two people in the place.  There's old farmer Fred, his real name's Pete MacDougal.  He comes in every Wednesday night, the cheap, old bastard.  He'll spend hours here, and only give me about five bucks, for the whole damn night.  Then, he's gotta come in here; if'n you ever saw the cow he's married to, you'd know.  Look-at-him sittin' there, in his overall's and boots, both of which are filthy and full of holes.  That goofy smile, he must be proud of himself for wearin' a clean undershirt tonight.  He's got some strong hands though, and its not to say that I wouldn't give him a tumble once or twice.  When there wasn't nothin' better round of course.  He smells like cow shit!

     And of course there's Ray, our fuckin' fruit bartender,  He's the illegitimate son of the owner.  A real disappointment to.  The fat, grubby, little butt plugger.  Not that I have anything against that kind of a life style, you know.  If your that way.  They say you can't help it.  I know a lot of people say bad things about his kind, but I'm not a racist at all.

     God, I've gotta get out of here.  If it weren't for the kids, I'd have left years ago.  Lousy, no good, ingrates, I could leave with their father.  He's a real fuckin' winner.  No good alcoholic, bum that's what he is.  Hasn't held a job in years, just takes my money.  Besides that he hasn't the dick size of a flea, and couldn't fuck to save his life.  It'd serve him right.  That'd show him, see what it does to him being tied down to a couple of kids, for a few years.

     New York City.   That's where I should be, not in this dung heap.  In Manhattan, dancing for the glam people, not hicks.  Yeah, I've got what they want.  Find myself some sugar daddy.  Then all I'd have to do is give it up to him a couple of times a week.  I could spend the rest of my time shopping at Sax, and sipping margarita's on easy street.

MACK'S STORY CONT'D

     Once I was inside the place, and after I'd had a good look around, I decided to hit the bar.  The bar itself looked like it was made from old shipping crates, and there was no drink selection to speak of.  It occurred to me that the only thing people were probably drinking around here was moonshine.  Since I wasn't in the mood to kill myself at the time, I decided to ask for a bud “From the tap” the bartender asked.  “No, a bottle be fine” I said, thinking it would be safer to have it that way.

     The bartender seemed OK.  Although he was a little slow, and looked as run down as the town.  He was a little overweight, and wearing grubby clothes.  He was in desperate need of a hair cut, something drastic had to be done with the rats nest he called a beard, and I'm not sure, but I think a good number of his teeth were missing.  With all that said he still seemed OK.  He set himself to getting my beer right off.  The only thing was that he kept looking at me kind of funny.  Like there was something I was suppose to know or do.  Only I had no idea what it was.

THE BARTENDER'S STORY

    

     Bills, bills, and more bills, goddamn my father for giving me this shit hole to run.  Look at that fat bitch over there.  A whore that's all she is a fuckin whore.  I need to get out of here, a guy like me shouldn't be in a place like this.  I should be in New York City running a club for the glame people, not these fuckin hicks.  Yeah, and find myself some sugar daddy.  Then all I'd have to do is give it up to him a couple of times a week.  I could spend the rest of my time shopping at Sax, and sipping margarita's on easy street.

     He's cute, kind of disheveled, definitely sexy in that James Dean rebel sort of way.  Come on over here, and let Ray fix you up.  Whatever you do don't go over to that Bitch dancing!  She's not for you, unless of course you like getting penicillin shots.  My luck day, he's coming to me.  This is it, this is the day I'm going to get him.

     “I'll have a beer.”

     Just listen to that voice.  Oh, I should say something—he wants a beer.  I wish I could have checked myself in the mirror. “Would you like that from the tap, sir”.

     “No bottle.”

     Ummm a bottle.  What are you looking over here for, you disgusting whore!  Don't look at her, Don't look at her.  Look at me, over here. LOOK AT ME!

     LEST'S CHECK IN ONE MORE TIME WITH MACK

     “So you got a lot of dancers here?”

     “No, just that Bitch over there, and another one who works Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.”

     The dancer took her break at this point.  She stopped dancing and headed towards the bar.  She grabbed a blue terrycloth robe off one of  the chairs near her, and put it on.  It was the kind of robe you might pick up in the men's department at Sears.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO HERE MORE FROM LADY GADIVIA

     Seeing Ray happy always pisses me off, so when I saw the two of them talking, I knew it was time for me to take my break.  I grabbed my robe, a sheer, sexy little number I picked up at Frederick's and headed to the bar.  Pushing the fag out of the way, I picked up my juice, a glass, and sat down next to the man.  I knew this would get to Ray, besides I was making my mind up.  This guy's gonna get the night of his life.

WHAT DOES THE BARTENDER SAY

     No, no what are you doing now.  Keep dancing, don't come over here.  You whore stay over there, you're going to ruin everything.  He's mine now.  Can't you see that, he wants me.  Stay over there you fuckin' bitch. 

WHAT DOES MACK THINK

     The dancer made it to the bar, and without stopping simply walked around to the business end.  Pushing the bartender out of the way, she grabbed a jug of shine and a shot glass.  Coming back around she sat down next to me, and poured herself a shot without saying a word.  After taking the shot, she looked up and over to me, smiling.

     “I'm sorry, did you want one, sweetheart.”

     She started to get up and move around the bar again.  Assuming she was going to get me a shot glass I waived her to sit.

     “No thanks, I'm all right for now.  Maybe later.”

     With that she sat down again, and poured herself a few more shots.  The whole time she had her head bent down, completely absorbed in her drinks.  The bartender stood looking from me to her shaking his head, and you could just tell that he had nothing but contempt for her.  He was washing glasses, and slamming them back down to the counter.  She must have been on her fourth or fifth shot when he finally broke his silence.

     “Why don't you go back over there and dance, Bitch.”

     She didn't reply to him.  She didn't even look up.

     “I said, go back over there and dance, you stupid whore!”

     It took another couple of shots before she did look up.  This time when she did, she jumped up and threw her arms around me.

     “My name's Lady Gadivia, an how'd you like to fuck the shit out of me tonight.”

     Now, I'm not easily taken off guard, but this threw me for quite a loop.  I stumbled and fumbled for something to say, and to get her off of me.  I didn't have to blunder around for long, before the bartender was there pulling her off of me and yelling for all he was worth.

     “You fuckin' little whore!  Why can't you ever leave anyone alone.  He was MINE!  I know he wanted me.  God Dammit!  Why do you have to take all of them?  You stinking little BITCH!”

I WAS HOPING TO SPEAK TO LADY GADIVIA AGAIN, IS SHE HERE

     I sat there not bothering anybody.  Trying to figure out how I was going to let this guy pick me up when the goddamn fag started in on me.  He wanted me to go back dancing.  Fuck him.  No, he couldn't handle it.  I just don't have the right equipment for him.

     “Why don't you go back to dancing,” he was saying and calling me a “bitch” and a “whore.”  He can't treat me like that.  Just because his stepfather owns the place he thinks he's the boss.  The only reason he's working here is because his stepfather didn't want him to work anyplace someone might see the fuckin' fruit bastard.

     Mack wanted me, I could see it.  He was giving me the eye.  I could see him.  That's when I looked up.  We moved closer to each other, embracing.  I was just starting to tell him how special his night was going to be, when that fuckin' fruit grabbed me.  I knew right then, I'm going to make him pay.

AND THE BARTENDER SAYS

     The whore had to come over here now, fuckin Bitch.  Pushing me out of the way to get to her shine.  She's as big a lush as her old man.  I asked her nicely to go back to work, then I order her to go back to work.  Of course the stupid slut wouldn't listen to me.  Hew wouldn't even say a word.  I've had it with her, I'm gonna talk to my father.  She's out of here.  Let her just try to find a job with a boss as nice as me.  The fuckin, stupid little bastard whore.  Then she did it.  She made a move on my man.  I knew I had to help him, so I went to get her filthy body off of him.

COULD MACK COME OUT AND PLAY

     It wasn't long before I was free of Lady Gadivia's grasp.  While stumbling backwards, trying to get some distance between myself and them, I started to get an idea of what was going on.  I began to understand that they were fighting over me.  They were rolling around on the saw dust covered floor now, kicking, scratching, and cursing at each other.

COULD THE BARTENDER SAY SOMETHING ELSE FOR US

     It all got out of hand very quickly.  She let go and came after me, gouging for my eye's.  The fat little bitch, took me off my feet.  Before I knew it we were on the floor rolling around.  She scratched me so I bit her, and everything kept evolving and evolving.  The one thing I'm sure of, she's not getting any of my boy's anymore.

IT'D BE NICE IF LADY GADIVIA HAD SOMETHING ELSE TO DO

     The more the son-of-a-bitch pulled at me the angrier I became.  Finally, I'm gonna get even with the asshole.  I'm tired of him being jealous of me.  Just because I can get any man I want.  Fuck him.  I'll kill him.

THE LAST WORD ON THE SUBJECT SHOULD COME FROM MACK

     The more I thought about it, the more unbelievably funny the whole situation became to me.  I come here every Wednesday night and finally something interesting was happening.  I pulled a chair over in front of them and sat down.  I couldn't believe it, I couldn't wipe the shit eating grin off my face.  Pulling out my wallet, I started throwing money to them.  The harder they fought the more I enjoyed myself.  The whole time I was laughing hysterically.