Don't own Forrest Gump. This story will only be sporadically worked on until I get farther in my other two, it's just a random idea I had.
In the Presence of a Lieutenant
Dan didn't even look up from where he sat at eye level with the bar when his drink was placed in front of him. He was staring at the calendar behind the bar, following the red lines that marked off the days. January tenth, Forrest had gone down to Byo… Bio-battery or wherever it was, and he was stuck here alone again. Lenor wouldn't even let him talk to Carla, and she didn't want a damn thing to do with him even if he could have. He grabbed the drink, his eyes already glazed a bit, a fact that had nothing to do with his distracted thoughts.
"What's your problem?"
He blinked and looked up to see a woman sitting on the stool in front of his chair. She wasn't bad looking, she had on tight jeans and a well cut shirt, but that probably meant she was making fun of him. He hated people, all of them were useless. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well I said hi about ten times and you just glared at the calendar, you got a problem with…" She turned and looked at the picture on the calendar, "Baked fruit pies?" She laughed at the bartender who quickly tried to explain that it had been free.
"Yeah, hi." He took a drink out of the glass and tried to ignore her, he wasn't in the mood for prostitutes or druggies, or psychos tonight, and she was defiantly one of the three.
"So what's your problem?" She asked again, hooking the footrests of his chair with her feet and pulling him a little closer to her chair, "You look awfully pissed about something."
Ding ding ding, we have a winner, prostitute. Nobody ever pulled him closer to them otherwise, who would want to? "Look I don't want any." He said as he set the drink on the bar again.
"Don't want any?" She stared at him and was honestly confused, and then she laughed, honest to goodness laughed. "Babe, if I was a prostitute you couldn't afford me anyway." She dropped a few dollars on the bar and got up off the stool, "Give shortie here nothing but club soda for the rest of the night, he's lose what's left of him if you don't."
He turned himself out from the bar as she started to walk away. "What the hell's the matter with you!?" He called after her.
She stopped and turned to smile at him, "See that's a long list of things, you're going to have to be a little more specific then that."
She'd called him shortie, told him he'd lose something else. Was she just a bitch or was she completely insane? People didn't say shit like that! Even more so considering it was him they were talking about! "I've got no legs and you're saying shit like that!" He spat, almost ready to throw punches, except that she was a girl.
She shrugged, grabbed her coat from the bartender as he handed it to her and said with a smile, "Could be worse, you could be dieing." He just stared at her, he'd wished a lot over those first few months that he had died, and here she was talking about it like it was nothing. "You know, for a crazy, sadistic little cripple you're kind of cute." She gave him a wink and turned to leave the bar, ignoring the looks she was getting from the people that had heard her.
He stared after her and she vanished into the crowd and that was it then. She was a bitch, not a hooker, but defiantly a bitch, and he hadn't ruled out psycho yet either. He leaned back in his chair and glared at her wake, somewhere past all the people the door opened and closed and he knew she had left. "Freak." He took the drink the bartender set in front of him, sipped it and spit it out on the floor. "What the hell!?"
He looked up at the man who shrugged and pointed after the woman that had left. "I do what I'm told."
