That’s another new development—I’m talking to myself. I’ve never been in prison, but I’m starting to see why Mercy and Cliff are so fucked in the head.
“The Most Badass Thing”
A River Reapers MC Short Story
Author’s Note: Have you been wondering how the River Reapers would handle social distancing? I have! So I wrote a few very short stories, just for fun, just for you and me. The following is unedited, so please excuse any typos or errors. Please also be aware that it may contain spoilers for the series.
Skid
I’ve been up since 5 a.m. and I’ve already watched all five Die Hard movies. I stare at the credits, the haze of alcohol pumping the truth through my veins.
I’ve finished Netflix.
There’s nothing else to watch.
I’ve even watched that God damn Tiger King show. What a waste that was. At first it was amusing; I got a kick watching a bunch of assholes running around, trying to build an empire. It sort of reminded me of the early days of the MC, before the shit hit the fan, before any of us knew better. Then I just felt sorry for the animals. Me—a biker with a mean road rash scar running down half his body.
It must’ve been the Jack Daniels.
I usually go for top shelf, but the packy was all out, and I’m running out of money. If I don’t go back to work soon, I’m fucked.
We all are.
I ain’t thinking about that right now, though. It’s too fucking depressing.
“All right, Netflix,” I slur, scrolling through the home screen. “What else you got?”
There isn’t anything else, though. At least, not in my usual genre—which is the blow ’em up, shoot ’em up kind of movie.
Maybe it’s time to make a change. I might be getting older, but I can reinvent myself any time.
That is definitely the cheap whiskey talking.
I’ll never fucking change. It’s my curse.
I hold my finger down on the button. I’ll just stop at random, and whatever it lands on, that’s what I’m watching. I’ve still got a half a bottle, and for now my bladder’s empty. I’m in prime condition for trying something new.
Releasing my finger, I take stock of what I’ve chosen.
“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. What the fuck is this?” I ask nobody.
That’s another new development—I’m talking to myself. I’ve never been in prison, but I’m starting to see why Mercy and Cliff are so fucked in the head.
I sneer at the pink and sugary teen chick flick. It sounds so fucking stupid. But it might knock me out, and that would definitely kill some time.
I hit the play button.
Two seconds in I’m rolling my eyes. Five minutes in I’m rooting for this Lara Jean. She’s got it rough. She’s lost her mom—no kid should go through that. Her dad’s okay, though. Not at all a tough guy—just the right kind of man to raise three girls alone.
Her little sister, though—she’s the real treasure of this movie. I fall head over heels for little Kitty. Just in a “if I had a daughter” way. Her one liners are the fucking best. And what she does? I can’t stop laughing. It’s so devious, yet so well meant, and for the first time in my life, I wish I had three daughters of my own, just for those moments when they’re all hugging after slitting each others’ throats.
Daughters are the most badass thing ever.
Before I know it, the movie ends.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask the credits. “Who does she end up with?!”
Then Netflix does what it does best: it pops up the next movie.
I guess this forty-something can change, after all.
I press play.
THE END
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Elizabeth Barone 