Goose Egg

He dropped her and the boy at the airport. The night was finding darkness in the airport shadows. The air crisp, he kissed her good bye as the boy hugged onto his waist. The night was young, perfect for dancing although Jack had never been much of that sort. His desires were to sit in a dirty old pub filled by sweat,smoke and strangers. Or on occasion, a jazz lounge where he could be heard, where people could lend an ear. Jack had a lot to talk about, often comparable to riding a coaster enduring rapid change of degrees. One certainty, the inclusion of excessive drinking bouts. Jack had been drinking prior to dropping her and the boy at the departure gate. As matter of fact, Jack had been drinking a whole lot the last couple of months, it had become such a habit that it had taken away from other pleasures. His motorcycle was rusting and collecting cob webs, canvases stand propped against the studio wall blank. Most of Jacks friends had given up on him. He had suffered a concussion, not one but many, this one was simply the most recent. The doctors had told him more than two decades prior never to take acid again and that it was imperative not to suffer another concussion due to the coma he had laid in for five days. Recently someone had struck him from behind with a blunt object, he had no idea where or whom had delivered the blow. When he regained consciousness his direction and location were obscure and he found himself knee high in the cool waters of Cowboy Country.