Tales from the Bottle: Blue Heaven
Tales from the Bottle is a collection of stories with the protagonists of those stories growing in age in the collection. Each has something to do with alcohol. The collection is not complete yet. Here are a few individual stories. All stories are copyrighted to Jeremy Lum.
Blue Heaven
by
Jeremy Lum
Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun crept behind the low mountains and ushered in a new day for the nightlife of the city of Palm Desert. As the naturally radiant and pleasant light died, an ever-expanding darkening horizon emerged across the plane. The never-ending night began to glow in the depressed radiance of the neon lights of bars, which blanketed the rather boring Palm Desert like specs of sand on a beach picnic towel. On the corner of 19th and Trust Bridge, sat the destination of many creatures of this time: lonely, afraid, and angry. There sat, glowing blue with the night, the establishment that seemed happening in an un-happening town; everyone comes to Blue Heaven.
At the bar of Blue Heaven sat a new regular. He had only happened upon this paradise amidst the desert like an oasis of pure liquor by chance; he had been wandering the streets, doing what in his college days they referred to as bar hopping, although that name somehow engendered a good time with friends; this night, he was alone. He was “bar hopping,” seeing how many different locations he could do in one night. He remembered twelve, the number was actually quite higher, much higher than even he would have guessed. After that impressive number came an impressive pain in his gut. He wandered through the streets looking for a good place to deposit that night’s repast. But it was then he remembered the gorgeous buxom pro he saw not a day before. She was the type of girl you wanted to see in porn, not because you wanted to make the young nymph dirty, but because you knew it was the only chance you would ever have to stare upon naked truth. He was in love, love at first sight, and approached the nymph with ease, slicking back his hair with his spit. She turned and saw him, saying hi. He offered his hand, but instead of extending that delicate limb of her own, she turned and began to puke forth-pure clear liquid. He thought of Niagara Falls because of its endless drench as the young beauty continued to upchuck clear liquid that might have been mistaken for water, save the stench that came with it. He left her there on the curb. He never saw her again. He promised himself, as a drunk, he would have more class.
He needed to vomit horribly and wandered through the wondrous streets miserably, looking for an appropriate place that someone of his class might deposit that night’s repast. He mistakenly pushed through the doors of “Blue Heaven” to which he had to flash an ID. He made it quickly into the restroom of said establishment, not even looking at the décor or perhaps more importantly his surroundings.
The restroom was exactly as someone might imagine the restroom of a place called “Blue Heaven” which opened at 10pm. He knelt down before the latrine and was about to commence his business when he noticed that his knees sat in piss. He immediately stood up, grabbing toilet paper, he hope to save someone of his class the embarrassment of pee-stained knees, and did. It hadn’t soaked in, came right off, but the crescendo of his problem was fast approaching. He grabbed a toilet seat cover and threw it to the floor, dropping to his knees in prayer. He missed.
The man of class emerged from the restroom partially covered in the splatter of his own vomit, which now mixed with the pee on the floor of Blue Heaven’s restroom. At that point, he knew what he needed, a drink.
The bar was nice enough although he remained only semi-coherent to his surroundings. He ordered a shot of Beef Eaters with a twist. Cheap Gin, as cheap as he could get. He wouldn’t smell the next day at work. Holding the glass in his hand, he said a quick prayer to his Lord in thanks for his drink and downed it. As he ordered a second glass, our man of class turned to notice his surroundings for the first time. Blue Heaven wasn’t a bar, although they did serve alcohol and people like our man of class might make the excuse that he came to Blue Heaven for the drinks or worse the buffet lunch. Blue Heaven was a strip club.
A middle-age woman with gigantic breasts who looked strangely like his fourth grade teacher Mrs. Alvin was finishing her dance on the stage to some gyrating song that allowed her to swing her twat in a man’s face. It was disgusting and worse was the establishment itself. Coated in blue like the endless night and dirty beyond belief, Cody (for we should at this point in the story give our main character a name), Cody looked around and felt like he was covered in men’s filth.
He was about to leave when his second drink arrived. He stayed. He picked it up and was about to say his prayer when an announcer interrupted his revere: “Gentlemen of the Blue Heaven, please put your hands together for Angela, the Angel from above.” The thunderous applause kept Cody from sipping the enjoyment and so he waited, and waited. Then, a leg appeared on stage. It was pale white as snow, perfectly shaped, thin and long, the long leg of a beautiful bird, delicate to the touch. And slowly the curtains parted and descending down from the heavens came an Angel. Her angelic face glowed with the brightness of a halo. It was roundish and yet slim and gave birth to the most beautiful and soul penetrating-blue; they were clear as ice and bright as sapphires. They looked down towards her rose-red lips that looked as if they had just blushed the apple. But her eyes continued staring down her luscious, ivory perfection. Her breasts were small but firm and circular: the perfect hand-and-mouth-full. The gaze continued lower leading to a stomach that would have shamed the gods and looked as soft as goose down, softer. Cody could not even bring himself to interrupt their stare with his drink and for the first time in months, he sat with drink in his hand, unable to drink.
It had become a ritual since that fated night of chance so long ago. At first it was twice a week, but it soon became a daily need. Not a day could go by without his chance to see Angela in Heaven.
Tonight was the night he decided. Their delicate dance had lasted months. Continually, he got closer, unable to actually consummate their relationship, but oh so close. He would stay until her shift was done. She would come over to the bar and he would already have paid for her drink: B-52. It was an old man’s drink, sweet and easy on the way down, but it fit her perfectly. He imagined it had been taught to her by her grandfather. He had tried to say hello, but had failed miserably every time, just as he had failed miserably at his marriage. But, tonight was the fated night, he was going to finally say hello.
Angela’s stomach swayed to DJ-Sammy’s Heaven as her hands rubbed her own stomach, pushing up the silk baby blue gown she wore, barely covering her Roman statuesque body. She pushed herself towards Cody, who shyly brought up his hand with another twenty in it and gently placed it in her belt. She smiled at him. Smiled at him. His heart melted with a feeling he could never remember. He sipped his gin and offered her a sip. She knelt down in front of him, exposing her breasts to his face and sipped his drink. She smiled again and took off. Cody thought for a brief moment about stealing the glass that she had kissed, for in it, he had finally consummated their relationship.
Her dance was over and she had exited the stage. Cody quickly made his way over to the bar and bought her drink. He had it out waiting for her. He sat there shaking. Even his drink trembled to his lips. This hadn’t happened to him since he proposed. Angela now dressed made her way to the bar and sat next to him. She smiled. He smiled back. She took the drink and saluted him. He returned the gesture. She drank her drink, quietly. Her legs crossed and he noticed the way her skirt rode up on her ivory towers, somehow they were more sexy here than on the stage.
She left.
He ordered another round when the bartender asked him what he was hoping for with Angela. “I hope it ain’t a conversation.” Cody was confused by the remark.
“I’m not looking just for sex.”
“I didn’t say you were.” They stared at each other for a long time, the way two people stare when one has an upper hand and the other is confused. Finally, the bartender broke his silence, “Angela is mute.”
It took Cody awhile to process this latest stream of information… “She’s mute?”
“Yeah, she can’t talk.” The bartender smiled at him as it dawned on Cody, “She’s the perfect woman isn’t she?”
Cody drank his drink in silence.
Angela’s hips slid slowly down the silver bar, disappearing between her thighs, into her temple that men could only dream of. Suddenly, she jumped up the bar, grabbing it and flexing her perfect muscles, an Olympic goddess, she slid back down the pole again. Every eye in the house was on her, save Cody. His eyes couldn’t sin against his temple. Every core of him made him come and yet keep his distance. It wasn’t enough anymore to see her like this, like other men had her, he had to be special, he deserved after his marriage, his divorce, and his anger, he deserved more.
Her drink awaited her at the bar as she approached a nervous Cody, who had pad in hand. He didn’t know if he was going to have the courage to do it, when something deep inside of him told him, “she’s not going to wait forever.” She sat. She smiled. He smiled. She took her drink and saluted him. He saluted. She drank.
His hand shook as he tried to drink. He somehow made it to his lips without losing it. The bartender noticing his shaking hands, stood ready with rag incase something went wrong. Cody carefully put the glass down and moved to get up, he couldn’t; after all the planning, all the yearning, he couldn’t do it. He sat back down. He had to. He looked at her. Her eyes were studying the stage in the radiant perfection. She caught his gaze, his soul-penetrating gaze and slowly she turned to return it. “Hi.” She waved at him. He smiled and slid the pad and pen in front of her. He offered his hand, “My name is Cody.” She blushed. She took the pad in hand, and with her long delicate fingers began to pen something on the precious page, oh that page being so lucky to be so close. She looked at him again and took the message off the pad and destroyed it. Cody’s heart sank through the floor with a thud of an explosion. Was it over? Then Angela started writing again. When she was done she slid the pad back to him. “Do you want to come back to my place?” … “Yes!”
Angela opened the door to her apartment and Cody stood hesitant on the precipice, not sure he was ready for Heaven. She flipped on the light and dropped her jacket on a chair. Her apartment shocked him, nothing what he had expected. Well, he had no expectations, he had dreamed of this moment, but it was always ethereal and unreal, yet here, he was actually standing in her doorway smelling the scent of vanilla and pumpkin candles, not overwhelming, but the ones whose fragrance actually romanticized the air. Angela’s apartment was decorated with Disney and Warner Brothers memorabilia. She had a collection of Disney Princess Statuettes and a poster of Donald Duck hanging on the wall. Besides that, the apartment was slick and crisp, the couches were black leather with silver or steel rods and the floor reflective echoing hardwood. His footsteps echoed in the dead silence as he crossed the threshold. He wondered how she afforded all of this, but quickly put it out of his mind, because while he watched her, she wasn’t stripping. She's dancing for him. There was no money involved. Certainly not enough to afford this.
“Nice apartment. I mean I really like it… I love Daffy Duck… You know I always felt sorry for him, you know? I mean, he was like always getting the shitty end of the deal, all he wanted was to be famous, Nothing’s wrong with that right? Oh. Thanks.” Angela had just returned from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine, in the right wine glasses, and handed him a Syrah. He tasted it. It tasted good, he told her so, She motioned for him to sit on the couch and he did. She sat on the couch too and laid her head on the back railing, looking at him. He didn’t know what to do as she stared at him, continuing to stare at him. “So yeah, I mean… why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself…” She gestured to the apartment. “Oh yeah… that was stupid of me. Or rude. I’m sorry. I guess I could tell you a bit about me? Yeah, would you like that?”
She nodded her head yes and her hair flickered over her ice eyes like tempting curtains.
“Okay… about me. Well, my name is Cody. Cody Jensen… but I already told you that… I work at Cisco Systems. It’s a good job, you know? I could have done much worse having not attended college… Um… I was married. I was married to a woman named Celia… I can’t believe I just said it that way… Well, I was married to her. We were married for almost 5 years… we had dated for 8 years before that. We were high school sweet hearts… She left me because we fought way too much. It wasn’t healthy…” Cody couldn’t explain why this was coming out only that it was. All she did was sit there. Silent. “I hit her… more than once… I would never do that to you though. Never. I promise. I didn’t really mean to do it to her… I just… I wanted to stop the fighting. I wanted to stop the arguing… cause we said a lot… even though none of it ever meant anything. We would argue over where we wanted to go for dinner… or what I should wear to her parents’ house … I tried everything. I tried doing everything she wanted… we tried counseling… I don’t know why I thought hitting her would…”
The room was silent, Cody couldn’t even hear Angela’s breathing and for a moment he wondered if she had fallen asleep, but her ocean eyes were still open and staring deep into him. It was silent. At least there wasn’t yelling. At least Celia and his voice weren’t echoing through empty rooms promising something more.
The two sat there sipping their wine. He thought this was good. This was just what he needed. He didn’t know where it came from but suddenly without warning, he had moved over on the couch and kissed her. She was surprised, but didn’t fight, she accepted it. The kiss was long and pure, like sucking on a peach on a hot summer day: sweet, oh so sweet. His lips left hers. “I just wanted you to know… you’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I wouldn’t,” She kissed him and slowly pushed him down on the couch.
He pulled his own shirt off. She let him pull hers off. She was wearing simple black bra that contrasted her skin so perfectly and held those small but firm breasts, waiting to be released. He kissed her again and she enjoyed the kiss. Snuggling with him on her couch below the Daffy Duck poster. Suddenly, he pushed her off him. He stared at her and she at him. She didn’t understand what just happened. Neither did he.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Is your name really Angela?”
He waited for an eternity, an eternity for an answer that would never come.
He leaned in again, “Please tell me something about you. Anything.”
She looked at him with wanting eyes. She stood up and took off her bra. He stared in amazement at her perfection, standing before him, everything he had ever wanted… the perfect woman. No problems, none.
She began to sit on his lap, but he moved her back to the couch and looked deep in her eyes. “Please… tell me something. I have to know something about you? How old are you? What do you dream about?”
She was confused. Angela had never heard such ridiculous questions. She began to get dressed, grabbed her bra and deftly fastened it again.
“No, wait! Wait! I TOLD YOU TO STOP!” Cody grabbed her arms and dragged her back to the couch. Still holding her, ‘You don’t understand, I need to hear you say something! Please I love you. I want to know you!”
But she couldn’t respond. He began to shake her and shake her, “You have to listen to me! You have to. I need to know who you are!” She pushed him aside and slapped him. He immediately slapped her back, hard enough to knock her on the floor. He stood over her, staring at her beauty, half-naked ivory body on the floor, staring up at him with hatred and confusion. It was silent. Nothing was said. They were standing under the Disney Princess statues. It was silent. Cody ran from the apartment as quickly as he could. He ran. He ran outside. Without shirt or pants. He ran. And he ran.
The street was cold and wet. Rain had begun and it was pouring. It was coming down so heavy from the heavens that one couldn’t even make out the blue lights of “Blue Heaven” in the distance. He ran into the middle of the street where his legs finally gave out and he collapsed onto the street and began to vomit. He vomited and could not stop vomiting. When he stopped, he thought he’d die. So he sat, in the rain, awaiting death, when for the first time since his divorce, since long before his divorce, Cody Jensen began to cry.
