HOT SUMMER SAVIOR
J. P. Willie
“We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds; our planet is the mental institution of the universe.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.”
― Mark Twain
For my fellow Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines; violence solves everything.
- J. P. Willie
THE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS
August 15, 2017
“Open yer’ eyes, Princess,” Kurt whispers sweetly.
Ava Munn, a newlywed and proud member of the Deridder Lions Club Auxiliary, hears her husband’s sweet words bounce around in her subconscious. She wants to answer, but is lost in total darkness.
“Sweetheart, I need ya’ to wake up,” Kurt requests.
Kurt Munn, Ava’s husband of less than two months, a local bad boy from Lessville, a small blue-collared town located 50 miles from Jasper, Texas, runs his fingers through his wife’s dirty-black hair.
Kurt, nicknamed “K-DOG” by his friends and relatives for his love of shitty rap-metal and taste in music, is a known party animal to everyone living within Vernon and Beauregard Parish. He’s a loudmouth, but funny, hilarious to some, voted class clown three years in a row in high school, and also the first to throw a punch in a bar-room brawl. People love his reckless personality, especially the regulars that frequent Gator Tails Sports Bar on Highway 28, a local juke joint every redneck and horse fucker visits weekly. To local law enforcement though, it’s the other way around. Kurt’s a troublemaker and a repeat offender with a rap sheet to prove it.
During his youth he spent time in juvie hall up in Alexandria for small theft and vandalism, and by the time he hit his twenties, DUI’s plagued his record. It’s hard to believe, but every offence occurred leaving his favorite drinking spot, La Breeze’s, in Deridder. People thought Kurt would’ve learned his lesson after his first arrest, but the margaritas served at La Breeze’s were to die for, and old habits die hard. It’s one of Beauregard Parish’s only Mexican Restaurants worth a shit to spend a buck in, but funny thing is not a damned Mexican works in the joint. Only uneducated white folk, high schooler’s and an owner with ties to old blood money run the joint. It’s a pathetic establishment with stained yellow walls and chipped wooden tables, reeking of pinto beans and cheap service, but it’s considered the best Mexican in West Louisiana by the sheltered and loyal locals that flock to it every Sunday afternoon after hearing the good-word from the pulpit.
Eventually, Kurt’s license got suspended for a year by the state, forcing him to sober up for a while, but not for good.
Remember, old habits die hard.
He’d always crave the bottle like a Catholic priest craves a piece pussy, or a tight twelve-year-old butthole. Never know what people fancy these days, but you can’t blame Kurt for how he turned out.
His father, Jacob, was an infamous drunk and womanizer and his mother, Nancy, a sex-obsessed country girl that favored any other cock but her husband’s. Both weren’t worth a pot to piss in. Growing up, Kurt heard rumors that his mother loved riding the pole for cash, although no one could confirm it, so one day he questioned her about it, and his answer was a slap across the face. They were never close. And when his mother died in a car accident on the way to Lake Charles in 2008, he barely mourned her death.
During her wake at the funeral parlor that reeked of formaldehyde and cheap perfume, Kurt came to blows with his father outside and sent him flying into the magnolia bushes that welcomed the mourners. Jacob laid flat on his back, snoring and smelling of cheap whiskey and sadness. After that incident, Kurt never spoke to his father again. No one knows what the fight was about because money wasn’t an issue, there wasn’t any to disseminate amongst the family, so the fist fight always remained a mystery. But everyone that witnessed the incident assumed alcohol was the cause for Jacob Munn flying feet up into the bushes on that warm September night. Life dealt Kurt a white trash hand from the start, but one night (possibly from the almighty’s plan) things changed when he met Ava.
She was introduced to him through a mutual friend at La Breeze’s one night and they hit it off. That night was thought to be a one-night stand, ending with Kurt accidentally nutting inside her, but love blossomed, and soon, the “L” word was used in conversation. After four months of dating, they moved in together. Weeks after that, Kurt proposed on bended knee. His friends told him he was crazy, but Kurt didn’t give two shits about what people had to say, or thought about it. He was in love with her.
Really, he was.
Ava was shot in the heart by the same arrow wielding Cherub as Kurt, and foolishly agreed to his hand in marriage. Love is a powerful thing, and Ava was madly in love with him.
The word around town was that her parents didn’t approve, but there wasn’t a damned thing they could do about the recent turn of events. And once her parents found out about Kurt’s small time record and DWI’s, his presence alone sickened them, and family dinners became awkward, most meals eaten in silence. Never again a pleasant moment with the In-Laws. They believed she deserved better, and truthfully she did, but Ava was young, dumb, and in love. Trying to convince her otherwise was an impossible task, and like the saying goes, “Young, Dumb and full of Cum.”
The lovebirds tied the knot together at the Lessville Courthouse, a gorgeous piece of infrastructure built in 1871 during the height of the timber industry, and notably the best spot in town to get hitched. There’s not much scenery in the area, or establishments to host such blissful events. Lessville isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Only the people of Walmart provide the local entertainment, hosting colorful, toothless meth addicts and mullet rocking cowboys.
Right before the lovers entered the Judge’s Chambers, Kurt promised Ava he’d give up the drinking. At first, she didn’t understand why he made the promise, because drinking wasn’t an issue. Hell, their relationship was founded on booze and bad decisions. So she shrugged it off and thought nothing more of it, but that promise Kurt made came from the purest part of his heart.
And even that turned out to be a lie.
Everything happened so fast. Deep down, Kurt wanted to be good for her, but didn’t know how to be, but he wanted to be. Giving up booze was his way of doing that. He wanted to change something about himself to prove his love and commitment to her, but his demons would end up getting the best of him.
Soon, his unexplained late night returns and empty bank accounts became the cause of verbal altercations between the two lovers, and because of this, their love began to fade away, just as fast as it began- well, at least for Ava.