Chapter 11. SAVE THE LAST PUNCH FOR ME
Rhino was drunk. Rhino was drunk and reading an old sign on the wall.
Here’s what the sign said:
HOW TO LIVE ON $15 A WEEK.
Whiskey and Beer……….$8.00
Wife’s Beer…………….1.65
Meat, Fish & Groceries…Credit
Life Insurance (Wife’s)……50
Cigars…………………..90
Pinochle Club…………….50
Hot Tips On Horses………2.00
Dog Food…………………60
Poker………………….2.50
TOTAL………………..$16.65
This Means Going Into Debt,
So Cut Out Wife’s Beer.
Alcohol is not your friend, is what Rhino often said. And he was right.
If Rhino drank too much, he’d soon fall sound asleep and the worst part was waking up, always with his head swollen like a liar’s promises and his mouth tasting as if some furry critter had crawled inside and died a couple days earlier of suspiciously unnatural causes.
“I thought you didn’t drink hard liquor,” Barker Ajax said, looking at the empty shot glass.
“I forgot. And about the time I remembered, I’d already had too much,” Rhino replied, his voice slightly slurred, his eyes liquid and reddish. “Charge you the same for a glass of water as they do for a whiskey, so I figured what the hell.”
We sat down to dinner in an elevated section overlooking the dance floor. ‘Children permitted during dining hours,’ another sign said.
Everybody else ordered buffalo steak with shitake mushrooms, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat anything on the endangered species list. Prime rib sounded good until I thought about my little boy bulls and I’d read somewhere the supply of salmon was rapidly dwindling, so I decided on brook trout instead.
If I’d given the menu any more thought, I would have probably restricted myself to the Ranch’s renowned all-you-can-swallow salad trough.
During the meal, the adults split a thick green bottle of strong red wine. Barker had but half a glass, so Mother was a little giddy and Rhino properly anesthetized when the band finally began to play.
“Rednecks’ Revenge” was their name and all they knew were country tunes. ‘How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away’ segued seamlessly into ‘My Truck Died and My Baby Won’t Start.’
“Got ourselves some serious turdkickers here,” Rhino grumbled as the music moved from fast to faster. Mom was doing the busy bottom boogie right there in her chair, moving to the music of the steel guitar. Unable to ignore her somebody-better-ask-me glances any longer, Barker Ajax swept my mother onto her feet and proceeded to twirl her around the crowded dance floor. Around and around.
To me, they were the most attractive couple dancing, operating like a single unit, joined together, not two different people. From a distance, illuminated by Mom’s smile, as if in a spotlight, they alone seemed colorized in a scene from a black and white movie. His gracefulness, her athleticism. Watching them twirling and whirling, kicking up their heels, hard to believe they’d never before danced together.
Smiles.
Twirls.
More whirling.
More smiles.
Swoooops!
Big Dip.
Too soon the music stopped. Barker seized the moment and quickly returned Mom to the table.
“I have to believe a male invented this style of dancing,” my mother said breathlessly.
“I know just what you mean,” Barker agreed. “The man’s in control and the woman does most of the work.”
“Backwards, too.” She was plainly pleased.
We watched an oily pseudo-cowpoke with chest hair sprouting around a gold chain, the biggest belt buckle in the room and what looked to be an imported all-beef salami hidden in his jeans. His partner was wearing pink ruffles at her bountiful cleavage with a dozen petticoats flaring her short skirt which displayed meaty calves as they pranced around the slick parquet surface.
“Dance Instructor From Hell meets Little Nell of The Prairie,” Rhino offered in astonishment. “Probably picked her up at a stock auction.”
“Be nice,” Mother cautioned. “At least they’re dancing.”
Suddenly, a slow song. Rhino’s cue. So drunk, I bet he couldn’t have found his rearend with both hands, if every finger was a flashlight. Soon, he and Mom were swaying.
They kept swaying even when the song ended. Stayed and still swayed when the next tune started, neither of them paying any heed to the change of tempo. Oblivious to their surroundings. Rhino stupored and stubborn, like his soles were nailed down. Mother safe and secure in the shelter of a strong man’s embrace.
The floor soon filled with other couples who skipped and strutted, twirled and twisted about the stationary twosome. Dancing circles around them, everybody else was. Everybody else was dancing fast, everybody else was dancing the same direction.
Too small the dance area was, so Mom and Rhino were clearly getting in everybody’s way. They swayed on.
A cute little blonde in a lavender cowgirl hat bounced off Rhino like he was a concrete sumo wrestler. He didn’t even seem to notice.
Her boyfriend, thick-necked and testosterone-laden, sure did. He tapped Rhino on the shoulder, as if to cut in. As Rhino turned, the irate swain launched a roundhouse right that surprised the big man up alongside his ear.
My eyes widened.
Mother stared dumbfounded as Rhino shook his head, partly drunk, partly stunned, entirely incredulous. Most sane people had more sense than to take a swing at this thick-skulled hulk.
The boyfriend stuffed a left into Rhino’s stomach. That seemed finally to arouse the big man’s interest. He gently pushed Mom aside and then shoved his attacker so hard he flew about fifteen feet into a nearby table, scattering dancers, spilling drinks and drinkers into a tangled tumble.
Wet women, dresses dripping, screamed and squealed at the stains. Their men, macho bruised, measured the mess and moved toward Rhino, who was already headed back to our table.
Three of them jumped Rhino from behind, soon joined by the cute little blonde’s disheveled boyfriend.
Before I knew what was happening, Barker Ajax sailed over the railing in a flying leap, driving two men, face first, into the hardwood, where they lay stunned and groaning. He torqued a chair out of the boyfriend’s grasp just as it began to arc toward Rhino’s back.
“Don’t even think about it,” Barker said, his pastel eyes issuing a deadly warning. Which the cute little blonde’s boyfriend hastily heeded.
I turned my attention then to Rhino, who slipped a punch and caught the last man in a crushing bearhug. Rhino squeezed until the guy sensibly stopped squirming. Rhino seemed undecided about what his next move should be.
He coldconked him. Staggered his hapless foe with a stunningly effective, brutal headbutt. Which didn’t appear to make a dent on Rhino, but clearly knocked the fight right out of the other guy. And seemed to signal an end to the battle, just as quick as it started.
Rhino released his hold and surveyed the damage.
“How about me buying you boys a drink?”
