Whoa Is Me. (Chapter 1)(Character Introductions)(Rough Draft v2)

"I'm gonna tell you a story about Gilbert Hayden. And I'm gonna tell you the story in "first person", because perspective changes everything."


The Ohio winters brutal January air turned my cheeks a matching shade of red to the scarlet OSU toboggan covering my ears. Pulling the cap off, and stuffing it into the pocket of my jean jacket, I caught a glimpse of my disheveled appearance in the Coors mirror as I walked into "Enablers Saloon".

"You'd make one beautiful hobo" I thought to myself, pulling the triggers on my two loaded finger pistols.

Quickly scanning the room, I focused my attention on a middle aged couple being served their food. Still shaking from the cold, I rubbed my hands messily through my hair and headed towards their table. After a glance over my shoulder and a deep breath, I waited for the waitress to leave as I slid in the empty booth next to them.

With a concerned look painted on my face, I quickly whispered, "listen, you two look like nice people, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'd hate for you to get caught up in...."

At that exact moment the brass bell above the entry door chimed. Their gaze followed my nervous eyes as I shifted to watch a long haired, thick bearded, grizzly man walking in carrying a motorcycle helmet painted with a flaming letter P, a matching set to the P patch sewn on my jean jacket. Slowly unzipping and reaching inside his black leather coat, the intimidating figure carried his 6' 6" frame with purpose towards the bartender. His leather boots crunched and squealed with each step, only pausing for a brief moment to turn and watch the middle aged couple trip over a pub table as they scurried out the door. The waitress walked back out from the kitchen and recognized the familiar scene.

"Dammit Gill! You're paying for the tip on that shit this time!" she bellowed, "and you're 25 minutes late, asshole!".

"Put it on my tab"  I mouthed, flashing a car salesman smile, while picking up the bacon double cheeseburger triumphantly. "Hey Chuck" I yelled, motioning to the large, bearded man, "you want some fries?"

"Did you just pull your second "Rope-a-Dope" this week?" Chuck said with a laugh. "You're gonna run out of suckers to keep falling for that".

Anthony Charles Britton was one of my best friends. A self-described, aspiring stand up comic, who had never been behind a microphone, but gave himself  the stage-name "Fat Tony". We all called him "Too Much Chuck", for his loudmouthed alter ego after he had a few beers in him. His dark sense of humor was a bit much for most normal people to stomach, but our group of friends had been conditioned to it. His was definitely an abrasive personality, but we were his biggest fans, and I was forever indebted to him from a childhood incident that I'll get into later.

"I've got a new bit I'm working on, lemme test it out" he said, grinning like a child showing off a new toy.

His decibel level always went up a notch when he went into "Fat Tony" mode. Throwing on his sunglasses, he cleared his throat,

"It's a strange point in every 13 year old boys life when the Fruedian complex kicks in and you realize you want to sleep with your mother" he said fighting back a smile. "Especially since mine was in a wheelchair. Putting on the brakes in that relationship just meant she couldn't roll away!"

"Ba-dum-tshhh" the waitress groaned, popping out from around the corner. "He's been been dying to get that one out all week" she said, kissing Chuck on the cheek.

"Ahh c'mon babe, that's grade-A comedy beef right there, right Gill?" he eagerly asked, looking for approval.

"Nah Trish, it's funny." "I just don't know what kind of crowd you think you're going to appeal to with jokes like that... when you do finally get up on stage" I said, jabbing at his stage fright.

Trish was Chuck's longtime girlfriend, new roommate, and 12 weeks pregnant with their first child. She waitressed at night and spent her days working on finishing her nursing degree. Theirs wasn't a storybook romance, but more of a Jeckyl and Hyde. Colliding personalities, but in the end, they were the same person.

"Don't egg him on, he's gonna have an extra mouth to feed shortly, and open mic's don't pay the bills" she pleaded.

"Who's doing open mic's?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm goin straight to Madison Square Garden to film my HBO comedy special".

"Alright lovebirds" I interjected, " I gotta go play barback. Trish, have you seen Sydnee tonight?"

Sydnee was my business partner, as the other half owner of "Enablers". He was "the voice of reason" in our group, and even only being a few years older, he was a responsible father figure to all of us. We bought this place around 4 years ago, with low expectations and out of fear of having to focus on an actual career someday. Things were going good with profits finally in the black, but neither one of us were retiring anytime soon. He was also my soon to be brother-in-law, and one of my oldest friends.

"He ran to pick up our liquor order, but Saydee's in the office, doin' the books" Trish said, pointing upstairs.

Saydee Stills, my beautiful fiance. I joked when we were 10 years old that I was going to marry her someday, and it only took 18 years for the timing to be right. She graduated from the University of Michigan with an accounting degree, and in most circles, with me being an OSU grad, our relationship was likened to a 1950's interracial marriage. I had to take some beatings for it, verbally and physically, but she was worth every bruised ego, and broken nose, both times.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

I like to believe there's a Normal Rockwell-esque parallel universe, where our names are the literal definitions of our identity. Our fathers are all named "Earnest", serious, showing conviction and full of zeal. Our mothers are named "Daisy", like the delicate flower, fragile in a strong breeze, but always standing tall. Our brothers, "Buddy", are honest and loyal to a fault. Our sisters are named "Charity", selfless, giving and kind. Then there's our best friends, "Richard", which is also accurate. This is the only world where the name "Pilot Inspektor" has any real value.