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Humor/Satire / Wednesdays With Reggie (Analysis)
Wednesdays With Reggie
“You carry bottles of Mountain Dew here?” I ask the bartender.
“Yeah, but we only use it for the Dew bombs.”
“Can I get just like a whole bottle?”
“Oops, sorry bud, I need to save these.”
“Give me a pitcher of Bud Light.”
“Damn” I say spinning in my seat towards Reggie.
“No Dew,” he fake frowns.
Reggie, my large long-haired friend since high school; he’s my trippy friend.
Literally.
He has PHPD, a hyper-sensitivity to lysosergic acid. To his credit he’s never actually dropped acid, though he spent three days jumping on his bed and scaring the shit out of his kids after touching a payphone at the bus station. Most of the time he’s just kinda’ sailing along on a thin trip of small hills and valleys. He’s got a killer blog, and we’ll leave it at that. Did I mention he’s just like me, except for the acid thing: pushin' 30 and still hasn't had a job that pays more than 10 dollars an hour. Three kids and married to women who regret everyday that they got knocked up by the artsy kid.
“So what’s up with Reg?”
“Not much, I had a situation today.”
“Big one?”
“No I just had to hold my poop in for a while. I was at Tahna’s and I had to take a shit. I went into her bathroom ..” Reggie starts gagging and coughs, “and it just smelled like death. A dead body.”
“Tahna’a shit?”
“No it was her shower curtain. It was new, fresh out the package. It reeked of formaldehyde. It was like Anatomy class all over again.”
Reggie had gotten too touchy feely with the cadaver, up on the examination table, straddling the lower intestines, trying to peal back the plastic bag they’d put on its head. He hasn’t been back to community college since.
“So what’s up with Mountain Dew,” he said pouring beer into his tipped mug.
“Oh nothing I just really like it all of a sudden.”
“That shit’s vile. It eats your bones, and gives you the Dew sweats.”
As he expounded on the evils of Mountain Dew I couldn’t help but imagine chugging a cold Dew, nostrils flaring, adam’s apple in full effect.
It all started innocently enough. I noticed a sign on the freezer case at the gas station, “1 in 6 WINS!” Never one to refuse a sporting game of numbers, I splurged and bought a bottle of the neon liquid. After twisting the cap I was informed by the luciferian elixir that it was SORRY and that I should TRY AGAIN.
Though this should’ve been a time of mundane sorrow, instant gratification came as soon as I started chugging my sweet toxic nectar. Depriving myself of this beverage my whole life now had me suckling the plastic bottle like a neglected baby. Outside the gas station I stood, GULP, GULP GULP… gasp…GULP, GULP..stop, “Damn that’s good,” ..GULP etc…
It was just like the commercial. I marched back into the gas station. One wasn’t even close to enough. I bought five more Dews, consummating my new love for the sinful saffron beverage, and ensuring an endgame to my previously promised 1 in 6 bet of whimsy. Of coarse each turn of the five caps bore the same reply: SORRY TRY AGAIN. Since then, it’s Mountain Dew, at least until I win.
We drank our mugs checking out the room’s human contents bouncing back at us through the large neon-cluttered bar mirror. Young people. This was a young person’s bar. What were we doing here? Soaking up the rays. Just a couple of sad vampires holding on for appearances.
One order of business. The comic.
So a couple of sad losers are sitting at a bar discussing plans for the comic book that I will never write and he will never draw. Then an even bigger loser struts in and grabs a stool next to them.
He sits there for a while avoiding eye contact with the bartender, kinda hiding behind me and Reg when he whispers to me, "Yo cuz, can you buy me a beer."
I look at this guy- he's got an electric blue FUBU hoodie with some cheap Fruit of the Loom navy blue sweatpants. He's got a brown Kango hat with a grease stain backwards on his head. His eyes are a couple red squints and he smells of weed smoke and body odor. If he were being ironic he'd be a genius, instead, he is about the foulest dude I've ever seen.
He starts talking... he attempts talking... all I hear is "shit", "fuck," and “ya know what I'm sayin," something about how his girlfriend stole his car or something.
I'm on my fourth beer and this guy is really good for laughs so I get him a shell glass.
“Three Dew bombs please.”
I give him a dollar to play the Jukebox so Reg and I can have a second to really make fun of this guy- the fangs come out.
He returns to the stool as The Humpty Dance starts playing behind him. He gets up again, balancing on one leg and humping around the bar, mouthing the words at girls who are either laughing or sneering at him.
I say to Reg, "You should draw this guy… for the comic.”
Reggie grabs a pen and some bar napkins, “Get some pictures with your phone.”
I snap a picture as he downs half of his drink and slams the rest back on the bar making a fizzy mess. Then he turns militantly towards the door and leaves without a word. Before the door swings back, he's in again, bumping my elbow to bum a cigarette.
I've never refused a free cigarette to anyone, not even Vanilla Ice's retarded brother. I’m not sure if that is building good or bad Karma, but I do it anyway.
"Thanks bruh, lemme get a light." he says as he snatches my blue Bic off the bar. Then he turns and heads back out, without lighting his smoke and still carrying the lighter.
"Hey!" I yell, "Can I get my light back dude!?!"
AND THEN HE SAYS IT.
"Charge it to the game, cuz."
And he's out.
I get up but Reggie grabs my shoulder and says, "Hey man, charge it to the game."
"Fuck that!"
"Hey man... seriously, they have matches here, we’ve got the napkins. This is a good story for the comic."
The napkins had already been destroyed by the fizzy mess.
We tapped mugs. I started on water and Reg got totally drunk.
When the bar lights flicked on Reg swiveled around kicking me in the legs.
“I think I wanna’ cheat on my wife tonight.”
“It’s a little late for that. Bar’s closing Reg.”
“Well isn’t there some type of after hours place we can go.”
“Strip club?”
“No something free.’
“No, I am going to drive you home where you will crawl into bed with your family, reeking of alcohol.”
On our way home I remembered that I needed to get cereal and milk for breakfast tomorrow. Some toilet paper wouldn’t hurt. Come to think of it I needed some printer ink and some Mountain Dew too. The Walmart sign was only a turn away.
“Yes! Perfect! "Walmart's the place to pick up skanks," blurted Reggie hanging out the window of my minivan.
“No you aren’t going in.”
“I won’t touch anything.”
“What makes you think you can find a ready and willing woman in there.”
“I’m gonna’ “so be it” it.”
Reggie almost joined a cult once. About a year out of highschool he got into a bunch of new age shit following this “channeled entity” called Ramtha. He started using words like “manifest” and “consciousness” all the time. He went up to their “school of enlightenment” and came back a week later in the worst mood. He said he couldn’t clear his mind and visualize what they wanted him to.
“I close my eyes and all I ever see is fractals into infinity.”
He fell out of that trip but held on to some vernacular remnants like “so be it-ing it.”
" I gotta get laid tonight, it's been too long", I dumped him off on the automatic doors and parked the car. I met him in the entrance as he played the claw machine.”
“Reggie, this is a bad time to get forgetful, we should go.”
“No, it’ll be okay. I used the tip of my pinkie to control the jaws. It’s Walmart adventure time. So be it!”
He was definitely having a moment. There was more than beer working on him now.
Concerned but wondering what could happen, the rush of Walmart air conditioning gave me more confidence as I ushered in my peaking friend. I smiled at the blue-vested old lady refusing to make eye contact. She pulled a double take on Reg who was visibly out of his head.
"To the George Foreman Grills, the beast must be fed!!" he yelled stomping forward with his arm thrust out.
I peeped behind us to see that, yes indeed, the greeter was on her walkie talkie directing security to our whereabouts
"Yo dude, quick detour." I said.
We turned up through the greeting cards and I scanned the big black camera balls hanging from the ceiling, There was a large gap in their arrangement above the women's clothing section, so we headed that way possibly buying us some time before the bust.
"What's up man?" Reggie grinned insanely.
"I think we're about to get kicked out so play it cool over here for a while."
"What are you two doing?" came a voice from a lingerie mannequin. Then a nice looking not-desperate-looking woman popped her head around the mannequin's butt.
"Uh..." started Reggie, when I saw a big blonde security lady headed our way from the front of the store.
“Security’s coming” I said.
"Quick hide," hissed Reg and we shuffled into a dressing room stall.
We tittered and snorted '”oh shit and this is fucked up,” for a minute until the door creaked open and expecting to get busted, we didn't. The not-so-desperate looking woman popped her head in.
"Are yall drunk?" she said with a half-cocked smile.
We were silent in awe of this lovely nymph who was now encroaching on our world of stupidity.
"Here" she said, tossing a shirt at Reggie, "scoot over-let me in for a second."
We shared a sideways glance indicating that this was cool.
"I wanna’ try this on-you two tell me what you think."
She pulled off her black top. Thanks to the mirror Reg and I got a sensory overload of both the front and back of her red bra, sexy shoulder blades and decent cleavage.
We shared another sideways glance indicating that this was even cooler. She saw this in the mirror and said, "Hand me the shirt." She pulled the grey shirt over her head and the black letters on the front read 'THE HIPPIES WERE RIGHT.'
"I just love this shirt," she said, "not because I love the message or anything, that's kinda’ dumb, but just the fact that they are selling this shirt at Walmart, like the most Republican dumbfuck, Dale Earnheart loving store ever. It's like a total Zeitgeist flip flop ya know.?"
"Get it," we said together.
"Jinx," she said and walked out without a look back.
More tittering and snorting between us ensued, “Holy shit, what the fuck and awesome.”
Then the stall opened violently revealing the shiny silver badge of the young blonde in a black uniform.
"You guys gotta’ get the hell out of here."
Sue, the Walmart security chick, walked us through the well-lit aisles and the automatic doors back into the cool night air. Reg tried hitting on her repeatedly in the parking lot. Turns out she was a freshman when we seniors in high school. She lingered for a moment but soon had “to get back in now.”
I was tired. It’s a damn Wednesday for Christ’s sake. All I wanted to do was melt into a bed next to my wife and kids and cuddle till noon. Too old for this. What was I holding on to? Reggie is fun but these experiments in serendipity were getting old. His quantum laser beam wasn’t materializing like it used to. The particles were fading. Reg bent down and picked up a yellow lid off the asphalt. Smiling he holds it up to me.
“Look you’re a winner buddy, thanks for driving me home tonight.”
“So be it.”
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FrakKevin reviewed Version 1 -
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DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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Bringing it back around to winning (the Mountain Dew lid – although “cap” might be a better word) was very good. The story, moving from the bar to Walmart also worked well, but some readers may not see enough of a connection between these two parts. More focus on needing that mountain dew might do the trick.
Notes:
. . . been too long”, I dumped . . . (It’s unclear who says this since “I” here is the narrator. I suppose it’s Reg, though, as he’s going into Walmart. You need to end the dialogue and starte I dumped . . . on the next line.
my peaking friend (not sure what this means)
Wouldn’t it be more interesting for the greeter to say something?
yall = y’all
“Here” she said…(comma missing)
wanna’ = wanna
flip flop ya know.?” = flip-flop, typo
ensued, “Holy shit, . . . (Since there’s no performative verb of speech in this tag, you should you the period before this dialogue.)
when we seniors (typo)
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NovemberDisaster reviewed Version 1 -
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MrBillShow reviewed Version 1 -
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There’s technical stuff you’re probably aware of- mixing your tenses up (“he says” and “he said”) can make your storyline confusing to the reader.
You’ve got a nice grip on character development. I felt like I had a really good sense of these people as the story went on. That’s not easy to do. To often, it seems writers want to get to the funny stuff and just have characters as an excuse to get there. Your humor comes from character. That’s what made this work.
Only after getting an idea of these people does the sequence in the Walmart work as humor. Not an easy concept to grasp but you certainly do.
You’ve also got some wondefully descriptive passges that really work- the whole bit on buying the Mountain Dew really works well.
matthewtrent reviewed Version 1 -
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NYPRBLUE reviewed Version 1 -
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Really likeable and though the writing’s good, the language need be tighter (“Reggie, my large long-haired friend since high school; he’s my trippy friend” reads badly—guessing it is a mistake; if not, it doesn’t work). Also, there are way too many grammatical errors, but my guess is that you’d notice and correct those if you read through it again.
Reads like Hunter S. and The Dr., but lighter.
Question: Might this be the beginning of something longer? As it is, it feels “not enough”. So much background and feeling for the characters, and it feels as though it doesn’t go far enough, for all we (and you) have invested.
Like, maybe one more stop on their journey or somesuch.
Otherwise, a funny slice-of-life bit.
wltshr reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a very difficult piece to review.
Firstly; I enjoyed reading it. You have an easy and individual style. Your desciptions are tight and lucid. Your characters are three dimensional. A couple of little things are difficult to understand for an english-speaking but non-U.S. reader but I’ve never read a book yet where I wasn’t introduced to something new.
However, I’m not sure why you think this fits into the humour/satire genre. I recognise, of course, that humour is subjective and yes, it’s a mildly amusing tale but…
And satirical?
Perhaps humour and satire are different across the pond.
I did enjoy it and found that it read like an extract from a novel.
Cheers
Wltshr
macjiminy reviewed Version 1 -
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I think you’ve got a nice turn of style, but it’s not well constructed. With the speech you need to clarify who is speaking – not necessarily putting in, ‘he said’ ‘she said’ stuff (although there’s nothing wrong with that) but more in the sense of tying speech to a movement/action. To start your story with that bartender speech, just the words – you could easily lose the reader.
Also, still on construction, what is this story about? It seems to be three stories rolled into one. The drink fixation, the vanilla ice jnr scene, and Walmart. I’m not sure if it’s clear how and why they all link.
Writing wise, I think you’re good. Good language, good turn of pace, good characters and some nice background (although the first aside – where you talk about Reggie and the cadaver threw me – I didn’t realise we’d left your ‘real time’ and had to pause, try and figure it out).
SemperConstance reviewed Version 1 -
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I liked this. In all, its a story I can relate to on a number of levels.
1. It recalls a time in a person’s life (late 20’s, early 30’s) when you’re in a constant battle between the maturity that’s expected of you vs. the person you’ve been your entire life. Here, you’ve drawn parallels between two good friends who’s situations effect the choices they make in this battle. The narrator appears to be in a relatively happy and healthy relationship. Thus, his ability to recognize the need to cast aside his 20-something ways is much easier than it is for Reggie, who is obviously not happy in his relationship (and by extension, his life) at all, and thus tends to cling to the norms of the happier, care-free times in his life.
2. This line cracked me up “Three kids and married to women who regret everyday that they got knocked up by the artsy kid. “ Great line! I can’t begin to tell you how many female friends I’ve had that tell me (with little hesitation) how, if they had it to do all over again, they would have made completely different choices about who they are and who they ended up with.
3. I love Mountain Dew – and yes, this a wonderfully accurate portrayal of the MD addiction. It is the elixir of the jittery Gods!
This is a nice little slice of life story that says quite a bit without really trying to. And in the end, aren’t those the best stories of all?
Deadsage reviewed Version 1 -
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Beautiful.
I don’t have much criticism for this piece because I enjoyed every minute of reading it. This silly piece about Mountain Dew has blossomed into a great short story! The tone, the characters, everything was just what I wanted to read today. I actually laughed out loud a couple times, which rarely happens when I read humor.
““Tahna’a shit?”” – should be Tahna’s
“Turns out she was a freshman when we seniors in high school.” – should be “when we were seniors”
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