Why Does It Hurt When I Pee?

Bang! I couldn't breath. His knee went straight into my gut. I stopped looking at him. All I could see was black and red and white and green and red again. 

All the years of karate lessons had been for nothing. There was nothing I could do but surrender and take it like a man. Hold the tears deep inside and just wait for it to end. 

Music played outside the toilets. It was Fucking In The Bushes by Oasis,

"Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes.

Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes.

Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes.

Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes"

Second and third blow to my face. I quickly wrapped my head and face with my arms in vain. Jab to my rib cage. Left hook. Right hook. 

I tried to focus on other thing rather than the fact of me being in the most terrible situation I had ever been. The music outside didn't help. "Fucking in the bushes?", I thought, "what the fuck?". All my friends were outside, drinking, laughing and enjoying our Friday get together and I was being used as punching bag in a dirty toilet in Zabovresky.

Graphic Nature by Deftones began playing on the old jukebox of that fucking bar. My head now was being used to hit my attacker's knee. I laughed inside. "I am beating the shit out of his knee, with my goddamn head!", I thought in a fucking sarcastic way.

"Leave your trail open 

Let me inside 

Guess I’m confused more or less 

She'd some light 

And tell me your secret 

How are you trained? 

I promise you I can keep it 

Go on explain… 

Tell me how you do it…now 

Your poison is glowing 

Against the night 

How can you lose"

Chino Moreno went on singing one of my favorite songs. I had been there for hours it seemed. Somehow I managed not to shout for help. I couldn't do anything. Not even throw a punch, try to bite his nose off, kill him.

My pants were unzipped as I was trying to take a leak when this beast decided to go berserk on me and turn me into a practice target. I must have pissed in my pants as he was quick to attack me from behind.

"Nemluvim Cesky", I told him when he grabbed me and turned me around to see my face. His breath stank like beer, piss and cigarettes. "Nemluvis?" he asked me. 

"Ne"

"Myslim ze jo, pico"

"Ja jsem Mexican", I pleaded.

"Ty pico", he said continuing with a sequence of blows directed to my abdomen.

I opened my eyes. I was on the floor right next to the toilet bowl. It was dark and music could be heard from afar. I couldn't make out what song it was. I fixed my eyes on the toilet just to see how badly damaged it was. 

"Fuck, what am I going to do now?", I said to myself. "Should I wait here a little bit longer?", I thought. All I wanted to do was to stand up and lock the door so that motherfucker wouldn't attack me again. 

So I managed to get up and close and lock myself inside. Once I had done that I reached for my phone on the left pocket of my pants and I took a picture of the blood I had spill all over the white toilet. "I need proof that I was attacked", I thought. 

Outside I began to hear screams and broken glass. I decided to wait until everything was quiet. I grabbed some toilet paper and rolled it in order to create a tampon like plug to stop my nose bleed. I used two squares of toilet paper for each nostril. I waited. 

Soon, somebody knocked at the door and I opened. It was a police officer. Someone had called the police and they stopped the guy who attacked me from continuing to beat my friends and everyone at the bar. His friends had ran away. My assailant, had jumped one of the police officers causing him to be sprayed with pepper and beaten with their batons. 

Once he was inside the police car, and everyone had given their statement we continued our Friday night by going to a different pub and drink the night away just to stop the pain at least for a while.

Hrms Etc

7.3.13

  

The Devil Is In All Of You

My phone kept on ringing. I left it on the table. And took several hits of rum. The ice had already melted but my drink was nicely cold. The goddamn phone kept on ringing. Nobody ever bothered to call me and ask how I was or that shit. But tonight it was ringing. Somebody wanted to talk to me. And I didn't. 

I never considered myself to be a bad person, let alone rude or uncaring. Friends always told me that I should learn how to be assertive.  But I just didn't want to answer that phone call. I took another hit of Bacardi and washed it down with beer. I could feel the booze making its way into my system, slowly but surely. It felt good. 

I noticed that my phone had stopped ringing. I turned it off. My ipod was in my bag, on the chair next to mine. I reached inside my green Converse bag and grabbed it. I managed to untangle the headphone's cable and I put them on. I liked this place, Mandragora, a run-down rock pub with a broken PA system. The perfect place for me to get on with my writing.

I enjoyed being there. Cheap booze, darkness and pictures of rock bands no one had ever heard of before hung perfectly from the slimy walls. Decoration or just a vain attempt to cover up the filth of these walls, I thought. I liked slimy walls better, I smirked.

I had shared this place with only a few people. They never liked it. It stinks like piss, one said. The other two had a posh attitude towards everything and they rated this bar as a shit hole. I didn't care. I can be here by myself, I thought. I enjoyed being alone. With some drinks and my notebook. Alone was ok.

I began writing some lines. It was November 2010. I kept on drinking. Another beer?, the waiter asked me. And a shot of Absinth, I replied.

Soon the drinks were on the table, right next to my black leather notebook. I wrote and wrote. Cold Red Light by IAMX was playing. I felt the energy flow through my skin towards my fingertips. I was writing something that wasn't part of what I had intended to write. I had had some beers and I was shooting up absinth straight into my blood.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was heading towards the toilet. It stank of shit and cigarettes. But I didn't care. The doors of the toilet actually locked. Something unusual about toilets of places like this. I liked to be able to lock myself in the bathroom and do my business without having to care about being interrupted by drunk patrons of Mandragora.

I was there. I wiped clean the toilet seat. I unzipped my pants and pulled them down. I sat down. I wasn't sure if I wanted to shit or just to piss. It didn't matter. Marilyn Manson began to play.

"Hey, cruel world…You don’t have what it takes

We don’t need your faith.

We’ve got fucking fate."

I sat there looking at the walls of this one toilet I was at. There was nothing new to see. Stickers of Anti Fascism and graffiti. I checked to see if there was enough toilet paper. There was plenty. I was fine.   

"The center of the universe

Cannot exist

When there are no,

No edges"

Manson sang. And I listened. Then the middle eight of the song kicked in. I could hear some people outside. I could make out some banging. I could only think. Are they fighting?. Should I stay in here?. Should I call the police?. Fuck, I thought, I don't know what to do. I heard some screaming. The banging got louder and so did the song. I will stay here, I said to myself. There is no way I am going to open this door now. I paused the song. I removed my headphones. The shouting got quieter and quieter. And in an instant, it was quiet as a grave.

I waited. I pulled my pants up and tried to peek through one of the cracks the door bore as a signature of violence and of bravery. There was nobody outside. At least no one I could see. I thought of running away from that place. I thought of the fact that I still had to pay for what I had ingested. I thought of leaving the bathroom and being blamed for the raucous. Shit, I thought of being mauled by the ferocious men that instants ago had been fighting in this very place. 

I opened the door and the first thing I saw was a man lying on the floor. There was no blood. Only piss and paper towels everywhere. I left the toilet as quickly as I could. They Waiter was at my table replenishing my beer. I waved at him, and signal him to come with me. He did. 

He stopped right outside the toilet and right in front of me. What? he asked. There was a fight, I said, and a man is on the floor, I continued. He opened the door and went inside. I followed. He stooped down and put his hand on the man's neck. He went on, this man is deceased.

Hrms Etc

8.1.13