Post-holiday season summation - part 2

And so it was that I showed up at the front door of me old mate's house with little more than me coat and a strong buzz, the exact origins of which I cannot be certain. Peter opened the door a crack and peered outside suspiciously as though he expected a band of hooligans to shanghai him at any second. He surveyed the scene, grew some hair on his wee bitty balls, and finally lifted the chain to let me inside.

I waved goodbye to Tess from the doorway to let him know that I would be okay and stepped inside the large hallway of Peter's magnificent living quarters.

"That's a lovely chandelier you have there, Peter!"

"Jesus, Quint, you smell like a distillery!" he said to me. His face scrunched up as though my scent offended his nostrils. "Where did you say you're coming from again?"

"Well I just finished an excellent meal of ham and hashbrowns at fine local establishment not too far from your humble abode."

"Well can you explain why it is that you reek of booze?"

"Sure I can. It's because I was drinking it!"

"At a local diner?" He scoffed. "You didn't tell anyone you were coming here, did you?"

"Why I most certainly did, my friend! I'm rather proud of our friendship and felt that the world would be better-suited to know of our complex relationship."

Despair made a bed of Peter's brow.

"Now don't worry, Peteyboy. Everything is going to be just fine!" I grabbed him by the shoulder, led him into his kitchen, and sat him down at the massive table. His little daughter poked her tiny head in through an adjacent doorway and giggled. A wave of horror drowned Peter's facial expressions and when he recognized that I was well aware of his obvious discomfort, he balled his hands into white-knuckled fists.

"Elizabeth, dear, please go to bed," he said half beggingly with a tremor in his voice.

I slapped me old thighs. "Argh, is that one o' the little ones? "Hello little one!"

"Daddy, who is that man?" she asked.

"That's just daddy's friend. Now please find your way to bed!" His tone was stern, but his daughter's curiousity was not so easily appeased.

"Why does he smell like pee, daddy?"

Peter rose from his seat and quickly covered the distance between him and his daughter. He softly pushed her into the next room by her shoulders. "You heard me, now let's go!"

"Aw, bless her heart. What a deary! Honey, that's whiskey you smell on ole Quint!" I yelled after her. Upon further inspection, I realized that her young nostrils were keener than me own, and her proclamation was accurate, however I did not feel that it would be in my best interests to admit responsibility for urinating in my own pantaloons.

I scanned the fridge for an alcoholic beverage, but Peter returned quickly and halted my endeavors. It was apparent that he was not entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving me unsupervised in his home. I didn't blame him.

"Quint, maybe this isn't such a good idea after all."

"Now what does that mean?"

"You know full well what I mean. We didn't leave off on the best of terms, now, did we?"

"Surely not, you shivved me!"

Peter's head flew about the room like a Siberian weathervane. His body movements were forever betraying him and they taught me much. For instance, I just learned that Peter's family was left in the dark as to the events of his past. "Will you keep that down?" he begged. "Perhaps you should go."

"Aw, but I just got here, mate! I'm in no hurry. Where's that wifey of yours? I'd sure like to meet her..."

"No!" Peter said with a raised voice. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "No Quint, she's up in bed. She has to get up very early tomorrow and the last thing she has time for is a meeting with a filthy beggar like yourself."

Up to that point I had been trying to remain civil, but Peter pushed just a little too hard that time. "Watch your tone, Peteyboy! Here I am for a reunion and you see fit to insult me!"

"What reunion? How come I didn't get the invite? Face it, Quint, the only reason you're here is because you're homeless and you try to mooch off of any old friend who will have you.

"Peter, I could be standing here for a number of reasons, the least of which would entail seeking backpayment for my allowing you to sheath your weapon inside my body so many years ago. However, I'm the forgiving type and as I found myself travelling through Buffalo, my first thought was not of revenge, but of good tidings and happy new years. I simply came here to say hello and spin tales of the glory days."

I could see that his hard exterior was crumbling. At that point, his wife came into the room and asked if there was a problem.

"Ah, there's the skank!" I said.

My exclamation caused her to backstep. "Excuse me?"

"How dare you!" Peter yelled. No one speaks that way to my wife! Get out!"

I cracked my knuckles and approached me old mate. His body had become weak and flabby after many years of neglect and I decided that it wouldn't be difficult to throttle him. "Fine, I'll leave. But I demand your finest bottle of rum for reparation of past wrongs you've done me."

"Suzie, call the police!"

"Argh, let's not do that, Suzie. I'll go."

Peter escorted me to the door. He fastened the chain lock to the big wooden door behind me. "Quint, don't ever come back here. You can be sure that I'm going to seek a restraining order against you."

"Now, that doesn't make a lot of sense. Aren't you the one who stabbed me, Peteyboy?"

"Quint, you were practically raping my mother!"

I was momentarily at a loss for words. "Mother? Bev was your mother?" This news came as a brilliant shock to me.

"Yes, Quint, but you were too drunk to even notice my pleading with you to stop. I stabbed you because you're a brute and physical violence was the only reason you listened to!"

"Correction...I WAS a brute."

"Like I said, don't come back!" And with that, ole Peter Rittenshire slammed the door on the most engaging chapter of his life...for the second time.

Pangs of loneliness and a severe case of worms cramped my stomach as I made the long walk back to the highway, but I took comfort in several of the many tiny bottles of liquor that I accosted from Peter's fridge whilst he admonished his daughter. I laughed to myself. "His mother?" I thought. "How in the hell...?"