Disclaimer: Jay & Silent Bob are the intellectual property of Kevin Smith and View Askew Productions, and I have no intent to profit financially from the use of these characters.
SEVEN
Do you know how many times I've had my ass kicked while somebody watched and didn't lift a fucking finger to help me? People that should have? Like my own fucking mom?
Never had anybody, anybody, stick up for me like Silent Bob did yesterday. Couldn't fucking believe it. That ugly fucker grabbed me, squeezed my arm hard enough to cut off the feeling in my hand, and I wondered how long it'd take for Silent Bob to skip out. Then I saw him from the corner of my eye, crazy ass fool, edging up beside me.
And when the shit hit the fan, he went fucking nuts, raging on that fucker's ass. I seen enough of Silent Bob by now to know that ain't like him, going off that way, but it didn't scare me. He was doing that shit for me. For me. He didn't get fired up that way until that big fucker hit me.
Fucking crazy, crazy shit.
Maybe Silent Bob's for real. Sure as hell keeps acting like it.
We didn't hang around the QuickStop after that, Silent Bob thought we ought to go home. It was afternoon already anyways. I let him doctor my face, clean the cuts and put on bandaids. He was real gentle, too. Been a while since I let somebody touch me like that. Years, I guess.
That bitch, Angela, spent a week in her crib, and we fucked and all, but I didn't let her touch my face. I don't like people touching my fucking face, not since I was eight years old and I woke up in the middle of the fucking night with my mom's boyfriend shoving his dick in my mouth. I put up a fight and he beat the shit out of me. He had a big fucking ring on one finger and it ripped my lip up pretty bad. Twenty eight stitches in the emergency room.
It ain't my fondest memory, I'll tell you that. I don't think I've let anybody touch my face since. Till yesterday.
Silent Bob cooked dinner then, chicken soup and sandwiches and I ate until I couldn't move, my ass parked in the floor in front of the coffee table, watching television. He let me have the remote too.
Then we talked about the weed and the money. Decided to roll some of the shit we had left, make a little more cash that way, get my debt paid off sooner. Silent Bob said he'd have to make some collections before too long and meet with Tony, and he'd need to have the dough by then.
We didn't talk about afterwards. About me leaving. Fuck if I wasn't sitting there wanting to ask him if I could stay for awhile, after we finish up our business. Way he defended me, maybe he woulda even said yes. But I could never ask for something like that.
Maybe I'm more scared of him saying yes than I am of him saying no. What the fuck would that be like, to have a real friend? Somebody to talk to. Somebody who really listens. Somebody who gives a shit about me.
You might not believe it, but I ain't never had that. Not ever. Not even when I was little, before my dad left. He was too busy getting high to even call me in out of the fucking rain. My mom too. Half the time they didn't even bother to feed me, much less have a fucking conversation.
Fuck all of that. Just fuck it. Why the fuck do I gotta think about that shit? So fucking long ago, don't matter anymore. Gotta keep my mind on today. On making this fucking money so I can get my ass out of hock with that fucking drug dealer.
I look over at Silent Bob. We've been standing out in front of his QuickStop since eight o'clock this morning. It's coming up on noon. He's looking fierce today, watching everybody real close, and he don't like it when I get more than a few steps away from him. Gives me a real stern face and points to the pavement beside him so I know where it is I'm supposed to be. S'funny.
We ain't sold much. Maybe cause it's Sunday and people don't wanna do anything to piss God off on a Sunday. Yesterday that woulda bothered me. Today I'm thinking the longer it takes us to make this $500 bucks, the better, long as it don't make trouble for Silent Bob. Puts off that shitty feeling I'm gonna have when I gotta pack up my shit and take off.
Silent Bob puts out his cigarette and glances around, gestures toward the QuickStop. "What, you wanna go inside?" I ask. He nods. "You gotta take a piss or something?" Nods again. "Well fine, then go ahead." He lifts an eyebrow at me, real serious, like he's scolding me. "I ain't going with you, you gay fuck. I like you, Silent Bob, but not that much." He rolls his eyes.
"You don't have to go into the john with me, asshole. Just wait inside the store till I'm done. You'll be safer in there."
"Safer? You think those fucks would mess with me again after what you did to 'em yesterday? Fuck no." But he ain't listening to me. He takes my arm, real careful, like he's handling something breakable, and I let him lead me through the door.
Walk around the store while he does his thing in the bathroom, checking out the security mirror. That fucking clerk is watching me. He's here every fucking day and he ain't stupid, he knows I'm lifting anything that ain't nailed down. He whines alot, bitching and moaning to anybody who'll listen. Like he's got it so bad. Got a job don't he? Place to live. Food to eat. Nice clothes. Fuck him.
What the fuck is taking so long? Lunchbox must be taking a dump, probably be in there a half an hour, meanwhile I'm stuck out here with that clerk staring me down. I wander up to the front of the store and start flipping through the magazines. All the porn's behind the counter. Fuck. Can't even find a decent comic, this gyp joint ain't got nothing but tabloids and newspapers and fucking Good Housekeeping.
Girl comes in, lots of dark, curly hair and red lipstick, short skirt. Nice. She smiles at me while she's buying a pack of cigarettes. My cock stands up and takes notice. I follow her when she heads outside, want to see where she's going, watch her ass shake a little longer.
"Hey baby, maybe I'll see you around sometime, huh?" I say, watching her get into the only car in the parking lot. She laughs but she don't flip me off or nothing when she drives away. Yeah, she was hot. I'd like to get me some of that.
I turn around to go back inside the store and realize I've just made about the biggest fucking mistake of my life, cause I'm staring right into the chest of the same fucking moron that smashed me in the face yesterday. He sucker punches me, right in the gut, hard enough I can't scream or fight while he shoves me around the side of the building.
One of his friends is waiting for us, grabs my hands and pulls 'em behind my back. The other one must be around front somewheres, watching for Silent Bob. Oh fuck, I'm in trouble. Big trouble.
By now I'm getting my breath back. I try to get my knee up or get my hands free, but he's pushing himself against me, trapping me between him and his fucking flunkie like the meat in a fucking gay sandwich and I can't hardly move. He clamps his hand over my mouth.
"I warned you, Goldilocks." Next thing I feel is something cold in my belly, like he's shoved an icicle inside me, and then something warm running down the front of me, down my pants leg. Did I piss myself? And then it hurts, so fucking bad, and I know the warmth ain't piss, it's blood. Fucker just stabbed me.
Oh fuck, Silent Bob, please come outside, please . . .
Try again, try again, gotta get loose, and I struggle, kick and thrash as hard as I can, bring my boot down on his foot, but it don't make any difference and I feel that cold piece of metal go in again, a little higher this time.
I hear something then, something that don't seem quite human, and over this fucking bastard's shoulder I see Silent Bob, even more pissed than he was yesterday. That wild ass sound is coming out of him. He throws his arm around the guy's throat and yanks, hard, pulling him off of me.
When the fucker's hand leaves my mouth, I scream, heave myself backwards with everything I got, knocking the other asshole into the wall. There's a loud crack when his head hits the concrete blocks but he don't fall. He shakes it off and runs.
Back up against the wall cause I'm about to fall myself, press both hands against the burning, stinging wounds in my side, blood pumping out between my fingers. Silent Bob's tangled up with that motherfucker, the two of 'em rolling around on the ground, and I can see the knife now, still in his hand, switchblade, dripping red.
Fuck, I gotta do something or he's gonna stick Silent Bob . . . I take a couple steps forward and kick his hand, knife goes clattering away, far enough that Silent Bob's got a chance to finish this shit in one piece. Stumble back to the wall again, slide down till my ass is on the ground and my knees are up under my chin. Oh God it fucking hurts . . .
"Holy shit!" QuickStop clerk is standing there now, his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open. He looks at Silent Bob and that asshole wrestling, looks at me bleeding. "Shit! 911! 911!" He yells it like the cops'll hear him from across town and come running. Then he's gone.
Without his blade, the big cocksucker ain't interested in fighting anymore and the first chance he gets, he pushes Silent Bob off of him, disappears over the fence in back of the building. Silent Bob stands up, dazed, moves toward me.
"Oh fuck . . . " He rushes over and kneels in front of me, staring not at my face but down, probably looking at the blood. He swallows real hard and meets my eyes. "Oh my God, Jay . . . he stabbed you." I ain't looked down yet and I start to but he shakes his head. "No, don't . . . "
Pain's so bad, burning, burning like fucking fire spreading through my gut, and my legs are shaking. Still bleeding but my arms are shaking too and I can't keep my hands over the wounds. "Sorry Bob sorry . . . " My hands slip. Silent Bob sees them fall and shoves his own hand in there against my side.
"Sorry for what?" he hisses, like maybe he's mad.
"Shoulda listened . . . " I whisper back, breath catching in my chest. "Shoulda stayed inside . . . like you said . . . shoulda listened . . . "
"Yeah, you should have, but I won't hold it against you." Looks like he might cry. "It's gonna be ok, Jay, you'll be alright. Just hold on." He turns toward the wail of a siren. "You hear that?" I'd turn my head too but I can't. Can't do much of anything but sit here, trying to breathe through the pain.
Paramedics take over then, putting a mask over my face, poking needles in anywhere I've got skin showing, cutting my clothes off, asking me questions. I try to answer but I can only get out one word at a time and even then it's so fucking quiet I don't know if they hear me.
Silent Bob's standing close by, watching, looks scared. Medic grabs his hand and I realize some of the blood on it is his. Motherfucker slashed his hand open. Got himself stuck trying to protect me.
They load me up in the ambulance and take off. It's hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to think, only thing makes sense is the pain. Fucking ambulance bounces like a roller coaster. Paramedic, a lady, hanging over me, talking but I don't know what she's saying, brushing my hair away from my face. Oh fuck it hurts, never felt pain so bad in my whole fucking life.
Eyes slip shut . . . I force 'em back open. No sleep, can't sleep, cause I'm afraid I won't ever wake up again. Oh God it hurts . . .
Feel pressure on my hand and I think they're gonna prick me again, but when I look over I see Silent Bob's holding it in his good one. He's riding with me. Don't look like he's gonna cry anymore, he is. Got tears running from my eyes too.
Spend all my energy, all my brains, all my strength trying to stay alive on the street, avoiding what danger I can, hiding, scrounging for food, working so fucking hard to stay alive.
Hurts so bad . . . can't breathe.
Not like this . . . not supposed to be like this . . . not like this.
Mask comes off my face and suddenly there's hands jerking my head back, fingers prying my mouth open, something metal being shoved between my teeth, down my throat. If I could fight I would. Eyes roll up in my head. Fucking thing stings my throat. Then it's gone and the mask comes back and there's air again, pushing into me.
It ain't me breathing now, it's them, doing it for me. Oh God it hurts . . .
Can't keep my eyes open anymore. Everything's gray, like an old TV when you turn it off, the picture fading, sliding off the screen till there's nothing.