Budd's Decision
A Drunk Man May Be HappyBut A Happy Man Is Not A Drunk
Budd sat crumpled over in a chair in the back of some nameless bar on the outskirts of El Paso, a bottle in one hand and a shot glass in the other. The bar was empty save for the two punk ass kids who just walked in. Yet the bartender kept eyeing Budd.
"Last Call, the bar is closed!"
"Who does Bill think he is?" Budd thought, ignoring the creep.
"You know who he is," he muttered to himself. He's a cold-blooded killer and had taught Budd to be the same. Hey taking out some shithead for a couple of grand is not a bad gig and was Budd's career of choice up until today.
Kiddo was vicious. As poisonous as the snake she was named after. But there was something in her eyes Budd hadn't seen before. It didn't stop him from slamming her face in. But when she lay there staring up at them right before Bill performed her coup de grace; a wave of remorse swept through Budd's body that left a horrible taste in his mouth. It was a feeling he had never felt before.
The bitch had it coming. No doubt about that. Boy did she ever pull one over on ol' Bill. Budd had never seen his brother that way. He moped around for months. Vengeance began to burn in him. Then it wasn't long until he was the same Bill Budd had grown up with. Budd couldn't read his brother, how he must of felt to see her alive after fearing her dead like that. To see her knocked up by another man. Had to of broken his goddamned black heart. Yeah, the bitch had it coming all right.
"Yo dude, you deaf or something? Get the hell out of here!"
The creep was leaning over him now.
"Listen," Budd said looking up at the bartender, a large balding man with a handle bar moustache. "Uh, I didn't catch your name?"
"I don't remember giving it, chump." The guy leaned on the edge of the table that stood in front of Budd as he sneered down at him.
Budd looked up from his drink at the man and smirked. A sort of toothy grin as he cocked his head to the side and let out a laugh.
"Heh, any who, I haven't finished my drink yet. And would be much obliged if you would kindly step back, and, let a man have his peace."
"We're closin' early asshole, now beat it."
Budd looked down at the still full shot glass he gripped in his right hand. Knew, from conditioning, that he could use this hand to break the guy's sternum and not spill a drop from the glass it held. Before today he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But now?
God her eyes, why did they still burn into him.
The door in the back of the bar swung open. A fat man with a long ZZ top beard stormed in and stood behind Budd. The bartender laughed.
"That's it, you're gonna be sorry now. Jethro, take this sack of shit outside an' beat the hell out of him."
Budd may have had to think twice now. But his instincts didn't. He could hear and feel the bar stool as it cut through the air aimed towards the back of his head.
Throwing his weight to the side and kicking out the leg of the table as he fell, he rolled back up to his feet kicking the table up in the air just in time to see Jethro smash the stool against the table, which had flipped toward him from the force of Budd's kick. Budd walked up to Jethro throwing a left hook that sent him sprawling to the ground.
Budd spun and intercepted the incoming punch from the bartender and punched him in the chest, the wet crack confirming that Budd had accomplished his earlier thought about what he could do to the man.
He finished his drink and threw the glass against the floor as he stumbled to the front door and left the bar. He fumbled for his keys and had found them when he heard the door of the bar open again. He turned to see the two kids, swords drawn, standing ten feet away from him.
"You're gonna pay for what you did to my uncle." The shorter of the two said pointing his sword at Budd.
Budd glanced through the window of his car. A blue light flashing on his phone, Bill was calling. But he would have to wait. Budd opened the door and grabbed his Hattori Hanzo sword that was laying on the backseat.