2007-06-24: Coyote Ugly

Starring:

Jack_icon.gif Benjamin_icon.gif Megan_icon.gif

Summary: Drinking. Singing. Scarring of people for life. Gun Show. Read on at your own risk.

Date It Happened: June 24th, 2007

Log Title Coyote Ugly


Den of Iniquity

Benjamin has an idea. A bad one as it tends to lead to trouble.. and vomiting.. and headaches.. impregnating women.. that sort of thing. Yet, he just can't think of what could be a better idea right now. Nothing is distracting enough, and sometimes, a man just wants to get stinking drunk, alright? Even a stodgy, dull sort like Benji. So here he is.. heading into a bar. First one he happened along. This is a good idea. Drink, drink, forget and drink some more. Inside, he looks around briefly.. then before he he loses his nerve, goes straight up to the bar.

Late evening on a Tuesday. The Den is fairly quiet today. Save for a few pool players (who, for reasons unknown, make Jack eyetwitch unconsciously every time he looks at them) there's a notable lack of patrons. The bartender is dropping a fistful of quarters into the jukebox, much to the dismay of the people shooting stick. There are more than a few muttered protests, as all are regulars and they know what's coming.

As Poison's 'Ain't Nothin' But A Good Time' starts blaring out of the box, he perks up. Customer. Hustling, he makes his way behind the bar and throws on a friendly, crooked grin. "'Allo. What can I get ya?"

Benjamin glances to the juke box. Well. Isn't that kind of.. an ironic choice in music to walk in on! "Uh.. Hi.." he says, gaze turning and settling on Jack. "I.. want to get drunk. Very drunk. Drunk like I haven't been since college. What do you suggest I start with?" It's sad.. yet funny.. with the way he starts off explaining his presence and what he wants.

Jack lets out a snort of laughter and nods. This is a request he can understand. "'God invented liquor so that the Irish wouldn't rule the world,'" he quotes. "Let's start off with some Jameson. S'Irish whiskey. I'll buy the first round, and you can tell ol' Jackie what's got you so hard up that you have to get piss-drunk at seven PM on a Tuesday." As he speaks, Jack is already assembling the drinks. Two highball glasses (none of those sissy baby-sized shot glasses for real men) filled with a generous two fingers, one of which is set in front of the woeful Benjamin.

Benjamin chuckles some as he sits down on a stool. "Alright. I'm not sure if I've had that brand.. tell you the truth.. I haven't had much to drink since college. Just a few drinks now and then, but.. that's about all I can usually take." There's a difference between tipsy and falling over drunk. "What? Really? Wow, that's nice of you.. but I'm not sure I could really go into the details. It's crazy, and I feel a little like I sold my soul to the devil." He eyes the highball glass momentarily before picking up, then down the hatch.

There are a lot of things a bartender expects to hear when he asks somebody how they're doing. 'I sold my soul to the devil' isn't one of them. Jack coughs into his whiskey, then quickly finishes it. "Um." He pours another drink to keep his hands busy. "Did you at least get a good deal?"

Benjamin's eyes watering, with a hearty cough to follow, he thumps at his chest. The glass is nudges forward. "Gack.. I forgot how nasty that burn is. Yuck." Yes kids, he is making the whiskey face, trademarked by Denis Leary. "I.. I'm not sure." When it comes to the business of selling souls, you better be sure you're getting a damn good deal.

"Not sure? I'd love to say that's promising, but it actually sounds shitty." Yuck. That's cute. Jack smiles tips another measure out for Benjamin as well, then corks the bottle and sets it close by. "Sure you're not making something out of nothing?" he queries. "No offense, but you look like the type who spends a lot of time worrying.

"That's.. the way I looked at it anyway.. I was put in a corner." Benjamin looks at the refill, then knocks that one back too. Sipping whiskey? What's that? He's here to get /drunk/. "I'm sure.. I was darned if I do, darned if I don't. I had a choice but I didn't. Know that kind of dilemma? Hey, that didn't taste so bad the second time, but I think my tongue is starting to go fuzzy.. huh? Yeah, I guess you could say I worry."

Jack peers over at Benji curiously. "You're a very complex man," he replies. "Have another, you look like you could use it." As quick as it went in, Jack has the cork back out of the bottle so he can pour another round of drinks. "So you had to make a rough decision, eh? I've been darned a time or two in my day, I can sympathise."

"I am? I never thought of myself as that.. I mean.. I get up, go to work, come home, and don't do anything." How is that complex? Maybe Ben can ponder that at further length when he's three sheets to the wind. "Thanks.. yeah.. I plan on drinking until I'm sick on my shoes. At least, I think I remember that happening the last time." The drink isn't pondered, or eyed, it's downed. It's working, slowly, but he's gonna require more. "I mean.. a father's got to do what he's got to do for his daughter right?"

"He does," Jack answers without hesitation. He may not have daughters, but there are people in his life that he'd do anything to protect. Has done, even. Past tense. "S'yer daughter okay?" It's a cautious, polite question. He has no idea what Benji's problems are, so it seems best to take the backseat in this conversation. Plus, he's starting to get drunk pretty fast. Look, there goes his third drink!

"Yeah. She's okay. … wait.. who are we talking about? OH! Yeah. She's okay. No looking at her though," Benjamin says, shaking a finger at Jack. "I only just found out about her, no taking her away already. What was this I was drinking again?" Despite his size, the man's a lightweight. Alcohol goes straight to his head. And this whiskey, it's doing the trick and getting him to where he wanted to go.

"It's whiskey, man." Jack peers over at Benji. "You… Look at who? Man, maybe you should switch to water for a sec." The Irishman pours himself another drink, though. If he wants to have any chance of understanding his new friend, he's going to need to get drunk immediately. Gulp! Down it goes. "Aiyaiyai. It burns so good. So. You've definitely got problems, boy-o." Way to be helpful, Jack.

"She's 20. Got her mom pregnant with her when I got drunk, like I'm planning on getting now. So ladies.. keep your distance! HEAR THAT? Don't get too close! What was I saying? Oh yeah, my daughter. Kinda upset that I never got to see her grow up from a baby and all." Benjamin looks around and peers at Jack, "But.. I don't want water. If I wanted water, I would have stayed home. I came here," he jabs a finger at the bar, "To get drunk, and I'm gonna get drunk and I'm gonna like it."

Into this sad scene of drunken debauchery comes Megan Deatley. Cautiously. Very cautiously. This isn't really a kind of place that she would enter very often, but she wants to try and branch out. And Lachlan told her a story or two about Jack and the Den of Iniquity. Good things. So, she figures this might be a good place to try that branching out. As she pokes her head in then slides into the bar, she quickly makes her way up to the bar and sits in a seat as if she's being chased. There are lots of people she doesn't know and it's intimidating. That's when she hears a familiar voice. Benjamin? She remembers his kind words to her at the flower shop and it's such a relief to hear someone she knows. Hopping off her stool, she slowly weaves her way through the crowd and ends up right behind Benjamin at the exact time he shouts out for all the ladies to keep their distance. "Hey—" And then she stops mid-sentence. "I. Oh. I can. Uh. I can go, if yer…uh…" she's totally flustered and frozen in place, now.

As odd and awkward a specimen as Benjamin is, you've got to admire the man's fortitude. He seems absolutely determined to get drunk enough to wear the penis-shaped hat that Jack keeps under the bar for special occasions. So Jack is pouring them both another round when Megan approaches. Now seems an excellent time for Jack to smirk and bury his snoot in his whiskey glass, which he does.

"Oh hey, nice lady! No no, you're free to stay!" Benjamin says welcomingly as he turns around. Once, twice, then on the third time, focuses on Megan. "This is my new friend here, the bartender. That's what I call him. Did you know this nice lady here.. her brother is mean? Kinda funny though?" He points rudely at Megan. WAITAMINNIT. "HEY. Did your brother give you my number? Cause I gave it to him last time I saw him, and he was mad. 'Cause his girlfriend was in the hospital, but y'know, it was a chance, and I was too embarrassed to ask for yours last time I saw you. Oh hey! Another round!" To which he heartily takes up, and drinks down.

As startled as she was to be yelled at indirectly, Megan is just as startled to be swept up into the mix of whatever this is. "Um, hi there," she smiles awkwardly at Jack and then gives Benjamin a deer in headlights sort of look when she's pointed at. "Yer…yer number? No. He hasna. I mean, nah, he's…he's had a lot on his mind lately." Because she can't not defend her brother. Even when he does something that she'll yell at him later for. "And Lach's no' mean. He's…" what is he? "He's just a little protective. And doesna really think before he does anythin'."

The spectacle that Benji thoroughly and immediately makes of himself is too much for Jack to handle without laughing, but it's a warm, friendly sound. Megan's line of reasoning and her accent lead him to one inevitable conclusion. "Jesus! You're Lachlan's sister?" More than a little surprised, he grins and pulls a third glass from under the bar and fills it. "Crap in a sock! My name's Jack. Why don't you pull up a stool and have a sip with us, kiddo?"

Benjamin scoots up from his stool and drapes an arm around Megan's shoulders. "You're pretty. I was thinkin' it pretty loudly when I saw you. And you're nice. I was thinking about asking you for coffee, but I lost my nerve. Y'know.. your brother has a temper." Then, he feels the need to point out, in case it wasn't obvious enough, "I'm getting drunk tonight! It's not a habit, so it's okay!"

"I. Yeah." Megan slowly lowers herself into a seat, frowning slightly. "Does everyone in this city know my brother?" Because lately it seems like they do. "Oh, I dunno. I don' really drink." At all. Lowering inhibitions and the like does not seem like a good idea to her. But he's already filled it up and it would be rude to just push it back. Right? So, with some misgivings, she takes the glass that she's given. "Jack. 'Ve heard about ye from Lach. 'S good ta meet ye." The arm around her shoulder tenses her very quickly, but nothing happens other than her face turning a bright shade of red. "I. Thank ye," she replies quietly to all the compliments. "'D love ta do coffee sometime. But, I think yer gonna need a couple days ta sleep this off, the way yer goin'."

"Don't you two just make an adorable couple?" Jack coos. "All cuddlin' and a-blush. S'possitivee beautiful Magniffisint. 'Straordinary." It looks like the whiskey is hitting someone's system. He grins crookedly and glances from Megan to Benjamin. "So this is like yer first date, amIright? You know what's possitivee awesome on a first date?" It's a rhetorical question, because he's about to show you. He reaches under the glass-topped counter and produces an immense funnel with a wide piece of rubber tubing clamped over the narrow end. "A beer bong!"

Benjamin grins at Megan, brightly in fact, giving her a squeeze before letting go and facing Jack. "She said yes! Did you hear that!? I actually picked up a girl and she said yes! Usually the women do the picking up. Isn't' that weird? It creeps my daughter out. Say, my glass is empty, how'd that happen? What else do you suggest I try drinking?" Well.. that's not what he was thinking.. he's not sure what he was thinking.. but a beer bong wasn't it. "HEY. They still have those! I haven't seen one since that frat party!"

The moment that Jack calls Megan and Benjamin a couple, the Scottish woman balks a little. "Ah, no. Tha's no'…" she trails off, realizing she's the only sober one among them. "'S no' a date. I just ran into Benjamin." Her face is still bright red and doesn't have any signs of abating. "I. No, I dinna even do one of those in college. Unless yer jus' bringin' it out ta look at. 'M fine with that."

In case Jack hadn't been offensive enough already: "No, dearie. S'nor fer you. This here's man's business. Right, Benji?" He balks for a second. "Wait. Not on a date? Yer sittin' nexta hardworkin' man an' d'voted father. You suuuuuure you dun wanna have sex with 'im? Hold onna sec. Ben, put the end o' that in yer mouth. You know which one needs suckin'." Meanwhile, Jack is getting two bottles of Rolling Rock.

"Hey, we're here, having drinks. This /is/ a date! HEY. I love this song!" Benjamin bangs his hands on the bar in time with the music, then decides to sing along. Loudly. To Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar on Me'. "Huh? What? Yeah, sure men's business.. hey is that good beer?" It must be, else they wouldn't be putting it to use, right? "That was a turn-on for my girlfriend.. well ex.. really.. cause she went away on some weird mission. Or maybe it was to a mission. I don't remember. She said I was cute and she liked that I was nice.. HEY! I think you're setting this up wrong! Oh wait, no you aren't!" The brain is fuzzed enough already so that he does as told without question!

No, no, the blushing is not going away any time soon. Megan looks almost as red as an explode-y Peter without the side affect of blowing anything up. "I. /No/." She's not sure who she's answering right now, but it's fairly embarrassing either way. Maybe this was a large mistake to come here and try branching out. Hoboken is safer. Much much safer. "She…she wha'?"

"I love a man who'll put something strange in his mouth without asking questions." Jack pops the tops from the beers and grins over at Megan. "Don't you?" He clamps the necks of both bottles in one hand and the funnel in the other. Somewhat unsteadily, he climbs up on the bar and holds the funnel end of the bong high in the air so gravity can work it's sweet, sweet magic. Then without further ceremony, he dumps both beers directly into Ben's guts. As he does, he answers Megan's question, because Ben is currently occupied without about a quart of fast-moving malted beverage. "He said 'is ex-girlfriend likes it when men give each other the business. No wunder it dinna work out."

Benjamin would choke at Jack's words, if he weren't otherwise occupied. For the duration of time this takes. Speaking of take.. this requires breathing. Breathing is good. Sweet, sweet oxygen and woah. Head rush. "Room.. spinning.. hey! GOTTA show you something!" And off goes the shirt. Thrown over his shoulder. What is it he wants to show Megan? His bicep. Not very impressive. The most exercise it gets is from using a mouse. It's the workout of the new decade.

"I." This is just /way/ too much for a lone shy Scot to take in all at once. Megan's face is not going to stop being red any time soon. In fact it may be stuck there permanently. "I, uh, I need ta go check on Lach." Possibly a lie, but who knows. As she's making excuses and trying to leave behind her entirely untouched drink Benjamin whips her shirt off and she gasps, quickly covering her eyes. "Oh. Oh my. I. Um." Once again, frozen deer in headlights.

"Whoa. WHOA! YEAH, BUDDY!" Nevermind the fact that Jack almost falls backward off the bar when Benji suddenly releases the beer bong. Benjamin is shirtless. Perched high above everyone else, he gestures with the beer bong toward Ben's flabby, exposed guns. The Kind of the Drunkards and his scepter. "I command you to TOUCH IT!" he urges. Somehow, he's holding the uncorked whiskey bottle in his other hand. Forgoing a glass entirely, he raises it to his lips and swigs.

"The guns won't get you, not today!" Benjamin adds, needing little encouragement at this point. He even goes so far as to drunkenly wink at Megan.. while flexing.. before he commands, "MORE! I think.. I think I want tequila. I'm not drunk enough. I'm not puking yet, I can still remember my name too. THIS MUST BE FIXED."

"/No/." Megan is very vehement in not touching Benji for a number of reasons, one in very particular. "I. I don't need ta touch anythin'. I think ye two jus' need ta have yer boy's night. 'Ll just…uh.." Start to flee. Yes. Fleeing seems like the perfect idea.

Carelessly, Jack throws the beer bong over his shoulder. It clatters into an untidy heap atop a line of bottles behind the bar. "Tequila!" he agrees heartily. "Why not? S'been a long time since I hugged my toilet. BUT." He extracts one of the bottles from the beer bong mess. "We do it the old-fashioned way. Like this!" With his other hand, he digs a lime wedge out of the chill tray on the bar. Then BAM, he's holding the bottle several inches above his face, mostly getting tequila in places other than between his lips. When he's finished, he chokes and sputters around the lime wedge and tries to pass the bottle to nobody in particular.

"…. what'd we do?" Benjamin stares after Megan, a hurt look on his face. Dangit. Pretty girl, finally says yes, and he scares her off. ".. Well.. fudge nuggets.. now what? Oh yeah.. MORE DRINKS. And louder music! Just not jazz. Crank up that Bon Jovi! This band /rocks/!" Jack's antics earn a stare. Isn't that man supposed to be serving the drinks? He's forgotten.. "Your love is like.. BAD MEDICINE!" And he's reaching for the tequila bottle. "You are like my new best friend. What did you say your name was?"

"I am Jack. And you, sir, are very drunk." Jack points one long, spidery finger at Benji imperiously. His superior countenance is somewhat undermined when nearly faceplants during his trip down from the bar. "Good God! I almost went ass over teakettle. You're so drunk, I almost fell down. What the hell, man?"

"And that I am!" Benjamin says wholeheartedly, and cheerfully. Of course, he's going to be a fine sight in the morning on his first day of a new job.. but he just couldn't think of a better way to celebrate, err, mourn. "Hey hey, don't blame me, I didn't do that! I had /no/ part in that.. or that over there!" He points the tequila bottle over to a drunk across the room who faceplants into his table. "No blaming me.. yet.." *CHUG*

Jack sways forward, then backward, then forward again. He grabs the tequila bottle away from Benjamin. "Dude. You have man-boobies. They're kinda cute. But the hair on your nipples? That's bad news." *SWIG* "Oh man. That tastes so yucky. So anyway, we shave the hair off of your nipples, right? Then chicks will think you're sexy."

Benjamin looks down at himself, then to Jack. Stare. What? Then he laughs. "NO WAY. Not happening. I saw a movie where they did that. Nuh uh! Hey, you're hogging the tequila!" Then pause, blink, wait for it, "HEY." Pause. "HEY. I have an idea.." Then he hauls himself up onto the bar.. it's a struggle. It takes longer than it should for a grown man. But it's excusable given his current state. Once up there. He sings. Loudly. Along with Styx. Renegade. SHUTUP. It's a kick ass song. SHUTUP.

Not about to be outdone in his own bar, Jack jumps in mid-song and sings along lustily, though he does concede the bar dancing to Benji for this round. "THE JIG IS UP~ THE NEWS IS OUT~ THEY FINALLY FOUND ME~" That's right, bitches. He knows the words. ALL OF THEM. Jack <3 80s.

"THE RENEGADE WHO HAD IT MADE, RETRIEVED FOR A BOUNTY!" Benjamin belts out as he throws his arms wide. When he's not three sheets, he's decent a singer.. but right now? Lots of noise. With the appropriate slurring and shouting.

"NEVER MORE TO GO ASTRAY~ THE JUDGE'LL HAVE REVENGE TODAY~" Jack dances sloppily, flailing his arms in a most ungainly fashion. Then he holds the tequila bottle and sings into it like a microphone while motioning for Benji to join him in the next line. "ON THE WANTED MAN~"

Benjamin joins in when prompted! This is a fun song to sing along with. SERIOUSLY. And kind of appropriate right about now. "HEY.. HEY.. Got any AC/DC? I could do with some Highway to Hell.. and more tequila.. urp.." After he clumsily gets off the bar without breaking his neck. Oh the embarrassment of being a middle aged man making a total ass of himself in public.

Jack cackles. Ben is all knees and elbows when he climbs down from the bar, and it's funny to watch. He passes the 'microphone' to his compatriot. "AC/DC? For a square, you've got pretty good taste. You like Poison? Man, I should've showed your ladyfriend my tights! They have a sparkly crotch!"

"I really like Poison. I have a very wide musical taste. See, my mom is a Broadway actress, so music is like.. good.. and stuff." Benjamin says once he's off the bar and taking the 'mic'. "I listened to all kinds of stuff in college, then after.. when my wife wasn't around." Because she didn't take kindly to things that gave him weird ideas. Like American Idol. "Wow, you have sparkly tights? You're admitting to that?"

"Do I have sparkly tights? The man wants to know if I have sparkly tights." Jack lets out an exaggerated snort of laughter. He strides down the bar to where Trina has framed and hung the Times article that proclaims him NYC's Bachelor Of The Year. "My tights are so sparkly, the whole city wants to get inside them," he proclaims proudly.

"Yeah, I wanna know.. oh hey.. wow.. those /are/ sparkly," Benjamin proclaims as he looks at the picture when presented with it. "So they want inside them? "Think they'll fit?" Yes, he's asking that with honest curiousity. "And hey.. less talk, more drink! I can still feel my arms!" Which he turns at his hips, waving his arms wildly as he moves!

"More drink? You're the one holdin' the tequila, boy-o." Jack remedies that by snatching the bottle and upending it over his face. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. He's gasping when he comes up for air, and he's looking a little green around the gills. "Oh God. Gotta. Not gonna. Oh no, I'm gonna—BLERGH!" Jack turns around just in time that approximately 80% of his hastily evacuated stomach contents find their way into a trash can.

"OH YEAH…Heeeey.. I was gonna drink that." Benjamin says in mild protest as the bottle's snatched away. "Oh hey Jack.. watch it.. Gonna make a mess there! And where'd my shirt go…" He turns around to look for it then.. "Nevermind, cause I wanna go streaking. Haven't done that in /years/." Then he promptly starts trying to get his pants off.. and falls over in the process.. and passes out.

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