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The Legend of Eddie and Lola

by



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Beer and whiskey. Eddie had no idea what time it was, or even what day. He just knew they had been drinking for some time.
LET’S DO IT," SHE SAID. "LET’S FUCKIN’ DO IT!"

Eddie sat on the couch and continued to stare down at the can of beer sitting in his lap just as he had been doing for the last twenty minutes or so. “Do what?” He eventually said to the beer.

“What we were talkin’ about just a few minutes ago! Let’s fuckin’ do it!”

Eddie really had no idea what they had been talking about a few minutes ago. Both he and Lola had started drinking at around 11 a.m. that day. Beer and whiskey. Eddie had no idea what time it was, or even what day. He just knew they had been drinking for some time. It was still daylight, that was the only thing he was fairly sure of. He could see and feel the sun shining through the window of the trailer.

Things hadn’t been going well lately for Eddie and Lola. Actually, things had never gone well for them, but lately things were going worse than usual. Eddie had lost his job at the pretzel factory a few weeks before. Habitual lateness. Too many days missed. The usual. He was having trouble getting unemployment. Lola didn’t have a job. Her mother used to send her money once a month but she stopped doing that. No more money until Lola got her life straightened out. To her mother, getting her life straightened out meant getting rid of Eddie. And to top it off, they’d been evicted from the trailer they’d been living in for the last six months. Mainly because they were three months behind in the rent. They were supposed to be out of there by today if they didn’t want the authorities to be involved. They didn’t have anywhere to go.

Eddie tried hard to remember what they might’ve been talking about a few minutes ago but it was no use. It could’ve been anything. He vaguely remembered hearing Lola talking, and himself as well, but he hadn’t really been paying attention. He had been staring into the void of the beer can in his lap, feeling rather numb. With some effort he looked up from his beer and tried to focus his eyes on Lola. “Do what?” he said again.

Lola was pacing about the trailer, wild eyed with a glass of whiskey in her hand. The whiskey was splashing out of the glass unto the floor. She was wearing blue jean cut off shorts and one of Eddie’s old Led Zeppelin t-shirts. “What do you mean, ‘do what?’ Let’s do what you said. Let’s go balls out! Fuck some shit up! Let’s take what we need and fuck anybody that gets in our way! It’s time we did sumpthin’ for ourselves! The good life ain’t gonna be ours unless we take it, right? Isn’t that what you said?”

Lola wasn’t exactly right in the head. She got funny ideas when she drank, and she drank a lot of the time. She was twenty five years old. She had been molested by her step father from the age of twelve. She was an alcoholic by the age of fourteen. Three half-assed suicide attempts. The usual. But Eddie was at least a little bit crazy himself, so he couldn’t really hold anything against her. Besides, she still looked pretty good in cut off jeans and a t-shirt.


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<a href="/tag/crime">crime</a>, <a href="/tag/robbery">robbery</a>, <a href="/tag/murder">murder</a>

About William Taylor Jr


William Taylor Jr. lives in San Francisco. His latest collection of poetry, Broken When We Got Here, was released by Epic Rites Press in 2013. The Blood of a Tourist, a book of new poems is forthcoming from Sunnyoutside Press in November 2014. Right now, he should be sleeping, but isn't.

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