Story Battle Thanks To Glitter

Jack paused the YouTube video on the frame where the fist hit his face. His left eye shut reflexively in surprise as his right absorbed the impact. His assailant’s eyes focused coldly on delivering all two hundred and twenty pounds or so through the blow. “That sucker-punching sonofab!tch. I could have taken him, too,” Jack muttered mostly to himself as Ashley drove. The pain in his eye had dulled slightly with ice. It had started as an explosion of white-hot pain, flared to a burning branding iron of scraped flesh and blood, subsided into a throbbing pulse, and settled into a pounding concussion headache. The video sputtered in a grotesque parody of a slow-motion Hollywood fight scene as it buffered in 720p. Jack could see the guy behind him frozen with a knife rammed deep into his tire. As his head turned in surprise, the larger man directly in front of him, Sam the ex, used the diversion to land a left hook squarely against the right side of his face. “I bet you could have. That’s why he hit you when he did. Sam’s more of the ‘all is fair’ type, not the honor-bound duelist. He likes intimidating the hell out of people but I don’t know if he’s ever taken a punch. How’s that eye?” Jack turned his right eye towards Ashley, who took a brief glance as she crawled along with the commuter traffic in business district. “Yikes,” she said. “You look like Rocky.” “Ay-yo, Adrian. Which? Rocky one, two, three, four, five, or Creed?” “How should I know? I’ve actually never seen one. I figured you’d get the reference,” she teased. Jack flipped down the overhead visor and tried to turn his head so that his left eye could see the right. The gash where the skin split had either swelled shut or clotted; with all of the dried blood, he couldn’t tell which. A huge purple bump colored his cheekbone like a ripe plum. He touched the lump gingerly, wondering if the bone might have cracked. YouTube roared to life again with Ashley’s scream of rage. He glanced down at the phone’s screen and slid the timeline back a few seconds to the point where Sam’s right heel had slammed down on his mouth. Blood poured from his busted lip and onto the pavement next to the slashed tire. With a little relief, Jack wondered how bad the damage would have been had Sam taken a full soccer-style kick at his prone face instead. With point made and damage done, the three young men shared a few choice words and then walked away. Ashley assured him that she would send the video to the police on his behalf. In the meantime, he supposed his beatdown would gain thousands of views over the next few years. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I feel like this is all my fault,” Ashley burst into tears of rage. “I should have told you, warned you about him. But even I never thought he’d be this pissed off. We were done, Jack. I broke up with him. He had no right to do this. He’s such an a55hole.” Jack held his left hand to interrupt the tirade and, with a hint of a smile, said, “Don't. Just. Don’t even.” After a moment’s pause, he continued. “It’s not your fault. I walked directly into that. The way he was insulting you, calling you a whore and all of that.” “That didn’t mean anything. He used to do that when we were dating,” Ashley protested. “You didn’t have to.” “I did. It was more than the name calling. You’re a big girl and had a history with that guy. I have no doubt you can handle him being a douchebag. But he was blocking my car. Refusing to let me in, or leave. He was calling me out, not attacking you. Kids are stupid. They don’t get it. It’s not about who is stronger, not really. It’s my honor against his, and mine won out. I mean, I didn’t plan to go down like Glass Joe or anything.” “Who?” Ashley asked, confused. “Never mind. Old person reference,” Jack replied. “I planned to get a few shots in for my own defense, maybe even come out on top. Never underestimate an Irishman in a brawl. But I overestimated his code of honor. The guy behind me with a knife; I saw that and figured it was going in my back. Next thing I know, I’m spitting ketchup and taking teeth inventory. I’m glad your friend got this video. Now, the cops will do the rest." “Me, too. I’m sorry if it goes viral. She can take it down once they are arrested. And after I get a restraining order at the courthouse.” “Do what you gotta do,” Jack said as he reclined the seat and closed his one good eye. The yellow Cavalier pulled into the city garage adjacent to the courthouse. Ashley grabbed the parking ticket from the automated dispenser and waited for the mechanical arm to let her pass. Moments later, her heels, the ones that had spun effortlessly across the dance floor the night before, clacked loudly through the cavernous space. Jack admired the way she could move in those heels, in that little black dress, and seem just as comfortable in a dingy parking garage as she did in the nightclub. Her right hand wrapped around his left elbow in unspoken solidarity.A revolving glass door loomed ahead of them. Through the door, several armed officers oversaw a winding queue of straps and posts that led towards the forbidding archway of a metal detector. Ashley took a step back as they approached the door. A fwop-whoosh sound was his only company has he pushed his way through one quarter of the circular portal. Jack emerged into the lobby and faced the assaulting noise as officers barked instructions, employees reported to work, potential jurors wandered about eyes cast upwards in search of signage, and a few others sulked forlornly towards official legal business. He felt, more than saw, Ashley step through the portal and into the security queue behind him. Neither spoke as they wormed their way, back and forth, through the slow processional of legal process participants. Jack retrieved his personal effects and briefcase from the security checkpoint. Ashley followed closely behind. He wobbled slightly as she wrapped both arms around his neck and planted a kiss on the unblemished side of his face. “Good luck, she said, a huge smile on her face. “You look like hell, so give it right back.” “Thanks, a lot. I feel like…” “Daddy!” Jack spun to face the familiar voice and he heard Ashley’s heels click back down on the industrial tile floor. Emma stood, less than thirty feet away, completely surprised. She was dressed in a simple but professional dress, cut modestly enough for a seventeen year old. Even the most conservative father would be proud to attend a banquet or wedding with a daughter in that outfit. It was obviously designed to show the perfect image to the judge for the final courtroom proceedings. She looked like her mother. Jack watched the sense of shock on her face escalate, like tension on a clicking ratchet, as she processed what she saw. First she gasped at the bruised and swollen pulp that used to be the right side of his face. Then she looked equally horrified at the stunning, but inappropriately young, woman that had just released him. “Daddy? What happened? Who?” “Emma, honey, it’s a long story,” Jack began. “Glad you could make it, Jack,” a silky voice cooed. Jack snapped to military-like attention. He looked up to see his soon-to-be-ex-wife, Melissa, stalk towards them with the deadly intent of a jungle cat. She wore a striking pantsuit with a plunging neckline that dipped towards a single button. A tight white blouse covered her chest, leaving little to the imagination. Long, straight legs appeared even longer thanks to the thin vertical pinstripes of metallic gray. It was a look that exuded power and command while drawing lustful eyes of corporate bigwigs to all the right places. “I thought you were too old for a babysitter, Jack? But judging by your appearance, maybe she didn’t do a good job. I hope she didn’t charge you too much per hour.” Jack felt Ashley’s finger press along his gaping jaw and nudge it shut. He stared directly into the calm, confident eyes of a young b!tch who knew how to play that game, and loved it. “Jack,” she warned sternly, “Don't. Just. Don’t even.” Jack watched Ashley head for the stairs without a word, without a backwards glance. He stood, alone, facing the two women who held the most power over his life. To Emma, he murmured, “I love you, Em.” It wasn’t enough to overcome the shock on her face, but her eyes softened a bit. Melissa’s face contorted into a smile that could pose for Maleficent’s animators. “I thought you would put up a fight, Jack. Not fumble at the goal line,” Melissa mocked with a false pout. “See you inside.” Jack watched as the older b!tch took his daughter by the hand and marched purposefully towards their judge’s courtroom. Emma stole a glance behind; equal parts sympathy and shame. Jack waited until they were swallowed by the endless waves of people washing past him. Unbidden, his mind echoed the Steve Miller band from his youth. Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future. Jack McClanahan began to laugh. Twelve hours earlier, his worst nightmares had weighed down his spirit and caused him to dread the coming dawn. A wasted life, a failed marriage, and a lost daughter, loomed ahead of him. A time machine, in the form of a little yellow Cavalier with a beautiful copilot, had transported him back into the distant past, into a time of carefree youth and boundless possibilities. She brought him back into the present with a new perspective that sent his mind racing into the future. How many months or years of agony was he spared, questioning what he did wrong, blaming himself for the failures, longing for what could never be again? As he walked towards the future he no longer feared, Jack McClanahan began to sing. I want to fly like an eagle To the sea Fly like an eagle Let my spirit carry me I want to fly like an eagle Till I'm free Fly through the revolution. About the story: All characters are fictional but I drew from people I know. No one I borrowed from will read this but thank you, anyway. Thanks, SacredBread, for the topic. I hope Felix got better.