Chapter 25

Squiggy knew this wasn't good. His friend was now on the stage, getting hit repeatedly by the bouncer and kicked by the dancer he had tweaked.

He figured Mule needed some help, but Squiggy knew there were two other bouncers heading toward the stage, both big and mean looking. Squiggy caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and waited for the right moment to do what any man would do.

He stuck his foot out in the area between the tables and tripped the bouncer, sending him face first into the side of the stage. The third bouncer had been behind the DJ booth. This was the one who worried Squiggy. The man was immense, standing at least six-foot-five and weighing some three hundred pounds.

The bouncer had the pronounced forehead and muscles of somebody who had taken more than his share of steroids and could lift a Mack truck. The bouncer moved fairly well for somebody his size and was moving toward the stage at a fast pace.

Squiggy leaned over and grabbed a beer bottle from the table next to him. It was some fancy beer, not the kind he liked. One of the men dressed in the suit wasn't all that crazy about losing his designer beer.

"Hey, Mister!" the man squealed. "That's mine."

"Shut up or I'll hit you with it," Squiggy retorted. That shut the little twirp up for the rest of the evening.

Squiggy tried to gauge the speed of the bouncer and direction. He grabbed the bottle by the top and tossed it across the bar, the bottle spinning through the air and leaking the contents during the flight.

It was a perfect throw, hitting the third bouncer right between the eyes.

"Yeah, who throws like a chick now!" Squiggy hollered. His glee was damped after realizing the bottle did not even slow the man. "Uh oh."

The bouncer was looking to see who threw the bottle. Squiggy took quick action and pointed at the dorks seated next to him. The one man was trying to console the other and never knew the threat headed in their direction.

The bouncer jogged around the stage and arrived at the table. He grabbed both men behind the head and slammed them together, making a sickening thud. The two men sunk to the floor and were sprawled out. After finishing them off, he started toward the stage.

Squiggy knew he needed to take quick action. Mule was holding his own against the first bouncer and the dancer, but wouldn't be able to withstand another attack.

"Hey!" Squiggy shouted, causing the bouncer to turn around.

"Whath do you wanth?" the bouncer asked.

Squiggy giggled. "Nice lisp." He stood and walked toward the bouncer. Behind his back, Squiggy stuck out his index and birdie fingers, poised to go with his patented move. The bouncer never saw it coming.

Squiggy delivered his eye gouge, hitting the target perfectly. "Ouchth!"

After the success of his eye gouge, Squiggy followed up with a kick to the man's nuggets. It was a perfect shot also, sending the man to the ground.

He was rubbing his eyes with one hand and the family jewels with the other. "You kicked me in the nuths!"

"That's right," Squiggy said. He grabbed the man's head and slammed it back against the stage. It sounded like somebody using a nail gun.

The bouncer who had been tripped was regaining his senses. Squiggy walked over and kicked him in the face, feeling the man's teeth give way. Squiggy had wondered about wearing his steel-toe work boots earlier and was now glad he had.

On the stage, the man kept trying to get hold of Mule, who kept slipping away. He was now doing some silly Ali rope-a-dope deal, preventing the bouncer from inflicting any damage. He was also striking back with a surprisingly effective jab that was making the bouncer's head bounce around like a bobblehead.

A man was standing next to Squiggy, holding a pool stick. He had been playing a game of eight ball before the fun started and wanted to see this.

"Let me have that," Squiggy said and grabbed the pool stick. It was a nice one, not the cheap ones usually found in bars.

"Hey, that's mine!" the man protested. He was a young guy with bad acne and a mustache that had never filled in.

Squiggy ignored the man and climbed up on the stage. He circled behind the bouncer and swung the stick like it was a baseball bat, delivering a blow right below the man's legs, causing him to sink to his knees.

Mule jumped on the bouncer's back and put him in a headlock. "Give him a noogie, Squiggy!"

Squiggy knew they needed to leave, but couldn't resist. He put his hand into a fist and started rubbing the bouncer's head with his knuckles. They laughed for a few seconds then let go of the bouncer. He was turning around to look at them with a look of rage. Squiggy solved that, using the padded end of the poolstick as a battering ram and delivering a blow right to the nose.

"We best go," Squiggy said.

"Where's that chick that hit me?" Mule asked. He was standing on the stage, twisting his head around wanting some revenge. He saw the woman at the back of the stage, hiding behind a curtain.

Mule started walking in that direction but Squiggy grabbed him. "We gotta go!"

"Let me punch her once," Mule said.

"Naw, let's go."

Mule agreed, even though that wasn't his choice. They climbed down from the stage and headed toward the door. Squiggy tossed the poolstick to the pimply-faced man.

The man at the front was blocking the exit. He was a big man, but mainly fat. "I called the cops!"

"Good," Squiggy said, right before Mule headbutted the man.

The man dropped like he had been shot. Squiggy and Mule stepped over him and jogged out to the truck. In the distance, they could see the lights coming in their direction. They climbed in and sped off through the parking lot.

"Turn yer lights on," Mule said.

"Can't. Then they'd see us."

"That's real smart."

Squiggy roared out on the highway, never hitting the brakes, also to prevent the lights from showing. Actually, only one brake light was working but he still didn't want to risk it. They sped off down the highway, watching the two police cars arrive at the Club. Squiggy waited a little longer then turned the lights on.

"You figger they'll come for us?" Mule asked. He was turned around in the seat, looking back.

"Yep," Squiggy answered. "But they can't catch what they can't find."

He slowed down to the speed limit and drove over the bridge. They were in Arkansas and feeling much better. They got through Fort Smith without any problem. As they got into Pocola, Squiggy continued going straight, not making the turn.

"You missed it," Mule said.

"Naw, we's going the long way," Squiggy said. He had a bad feeling that the cop might realize that he wasn't actually a preacher and be kind of steamed about that.

Squiggy drove fairly normal while driving through Spiro. He continued down the highway until arriving at the Highway 59 turn. Squiggy turned and sped away, finally feeling better about getting away. They sped by the turnoff to Bokoshe and passed through Panama.

As they entered Shady Point, Squiggy was feeling good. "Gimme one of them beers."

"You sure?" asked Mule.

"Uh, yeah." He had noticed Mule had put away a good six pack since leaving the club.

Squiggy had just popped the top when the flashing lights came on behind him.

"Uh oh," he said.

Chapter 26