Willy Goes Werewolf

The door to the club opened and in he walked, all 5’ 2” and 100 lbs of him, smiling, pleasant, and very happy to be here.

“Oh great, here comes Will.” Stacy, the main bartender for tonight was not pleased about Wills arrival.

“So what?” was my response.

“He freaks out when he drinks, you’re not here during the work week so you never see it, Jimmy the Manager is ready to throw him out for good.”

“Little Willy? How much trouble could he possibly be?” Obviously I was out of the loop on this subject. It’s not often a customer can get under the skin of Stacy. She’s a thick-skinned pro and can handle the biggest assholes with ease.

Willy looked about as non-threatening as a human adult male can look. He was very short, and very thin. Usually he’s in a good mood and easy to chat to. He even looks laid back and easy going. If you saw him you would say to yourself: “Hey, that guy is easy going.” So for him to behave in such a way as to almost get banned, in my opinion, would require a drastic change of personality.

Very few people ever get banned in this place. You pretty much have to kill, maim, rape, or steal to get permanently blacklisted. There were a handful of crazies, gangsters, and psychotic circle-jerks who have ascended to this status, but their numbers are few. I was intrigued as to what Will (or Willy as he’s called – but never to his face) had perpetrated to almost be numbered among that elite class of mega-scumbags. And I was also intrigued by the fact that he apparently is here on a regular basis in the middle of the work week raising hell. For one: he works, so he has to be up in the morning, and for two: he doesn’t seem to have a lot of money, so how – and why – is this happening?

Stacy continued to update me on the Will situation.

“He was hanging out at the club down the road. They threw him out of there as well. The owner won’t let him near the place.”

“Well, they have standards, we generally don’t. It’s **Mos fuckin’ Eisley here.”

“Well Snake, you get to baby-sit him, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I can take him, or at least outrun him.” Getting into it with Will was a joke, but part of me seriously wanted to see what all this fuss was about. How could this chilled out, pint sized, skinny hippy be so disruptive. How could his behavior be so unmanageable, that my hardcore seasoned co-workers couldn’t handle him and wanted him gone? Well I guess I’ll find out, either way I was safe behind the bar.

The night progressed and Will seemed calm. Just another working class customer at the bar. He knew many of the regulars and they didn’t seem to shun him.

“Hey Snake!” He waved me over. “If I give you $20, would you give me a lift home tonight?”

“Sure man, you go east from here right?”

“Sure do Bro’.”

“OK no prob.” An extra twenty would help fill up my gas tank nicely.

“Thanks man, I appreciate it. Hey, wanna beer?” His offer was tempting, bartending is always more fun when you’re drinking but I had to decline. The Boss was trying to slow down the staff and their on the job drinking habits.

An hour later and Will had begun to show signs of losing control. At one point I had asked him if he was OK and he looked like he was insulted to the point of lashing out at me. I walked away thinking that maybe he just had a funny sense of humor. Now most bars would slow someone down on the drinking at this point, but this is not most bars. This is a stripclub sandwiched between an industrial wasteland and a ghetto. Since Will was on his feet and didn’t look like he was about to puke or fall over (he obviously wasn’t driving), he was permitted to continue ordering beers. The club got busy and I concentrated on serving the waitresses and forgot about Will. He was in the capable hands of Stacy who seemed to have lightened up and was actually speaking to him.

Last call was called and the place was starting to empty. I had been in the back doing a beer count and came out to assist with shutting things down. There was a loud roar, like someone being tormented to the point of mindless rage. I went to see what the fuss was about and there was Will being restrained by Big Frank, our gallant doorman. Short, skinny, pale, long-haired Will was being held safely by big, tall, black, bald headed Frank. Will thrashed, kicked out, and swung at customers who were leaving, roared and screamed. Frank had one massive arm around his chest and held him close, he seemed to be hugging him and trying to calm him down “It’s OK Will, relax man, it’s OK”, he used his free hand to wave the customers by. Frank’s strength, skill, and size are matched only by his patience. Easily one of the top Doormen I’ve worked with, he had everything under control. He wasn’t going to let Will come to any harm.

“Frank man, what’s up with Will?” I was concerned; I had offered to drive this nutcase home.

“This is normal, Will gets partying and loses his temper.” Frank was still holding Will, Will hadn’t heard anything we said.

“What set him off?”

“That’s just it, nothing. He just snaps.”

At this point Jimmy the Manager arrives on the scene. He’s smiling at me.

“You said you’d drive him home.” Jimmy is talking low so Will won’t hear.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I did.” This sucked.

“Do you know where he lives?” Jimmy was still smiling. He loved this.

“No. Why?”

“Because he doesn’t know.” He nodded to Will.

“How does he not know where he lives? He lives there, he has to know.”

“Not right now. He can barely give the info when he’s sober. He doesn’t even know his own fucking name right now.” On queue Will started raging again, Frank could be heard whispering to him, trying to calm this grown man throwing a mindless temper tantrum.

“Damn Jimmy, he’s gone fuckin’ werewolf.” This really sucked. Jimmy was still grinning at me.

“Lucky you! You know he crapped in Frank’s car once. Frank drove him a few times. Crapped his pants in the car. He usually just pisses all over.” I noticed Frank had let go of Will since there were no more customers for him to try to bite or punch. I had to find out if Jimmy was being serious.

“Yo Frank,” I said “I hear Will crapped in your car.”

“Yeah. Crapped himself in his pants, but I still had to wash the seat. He pees himself usually though.” Frank had not heard Jimmy and me talking, and did not know that at some point this evening I had agreed to transport this animal.

“Well Snake?” Jimmy is looking at me, like he is waiting to see if I keep my word. Frank is watching Will who is leaning against a wall.

Will started to bellow.

“How the fuck am I going to get home?!” It seemed Will was now conscious of his plight, but had miraculously forgotten that I said I would drive him.

“Gee Will I’m not sure. Hey Frank, how is he going to get home?” I may be out of this yet. But Frank explained that he usually would drive him as he knew where Will lived, but that tonight he couldn’t as he was going the opposite direction. Jimmy was laughing.

“Fuck that. I’m not fucking driving him.” I had put my foot down. Damn all previous agreements, promises, and pacts. I don’t get paid for this. I don’t need this. “I’ll pay a cab for him out of my own money before I let him piss, puke, and crap all over my car.”

“How the fuck am I going to get home?!?!” Will was shouting his question to nobody in particular, and had still not heard us talking about him. He was leaning against the wall still, staring at the ground. Headlights appeared in the parking lot. Frank recognized the vehicle.

“Hey, it’s his friend John. John will give him a ride.” What a stroke of luck. The car stopped and a sourly looking guy came out.

“Hey Frank, hey Jimmy. Is he OK?” John looked irritated, but concerned.

“Yeah, so far, well…maybe not.”

“Fucking hell," he said "I just hope he doesn’t make too much of a mess. Let’s go Will.” John looked about as happy as a guy who was about to have to clean shit off his car seat. He had arrived on the scene just in time. Like fucking Batman or something. Saint John, showing up in the dead of night and saving the day for all of us.

** Star Wars IV – that bar where Luke met Han Solo.