Short Stories: ‘Paddy, Get Back’ by Garret Schuelke

We found a WordPress page he used to detail his adventures, and his Facebook, Twitter, and SoundCloud profiles. I clicked on the image search. The same pictures we seen on the other pages popped up. We scrolled down and found a mug shot of him staring vacantly into the camera, with disheveled hair and a beard.

“Is that from this weekend?” Mom asked.

“No, he was more clean shaven’,” I said, clicking on the pic, and reading it aloud. “Taken last December, Kent County Sheriff’s Department, age, height, weight, charges are ‘FTA/FC for CIV Infraction.’”

I highlighted the charges and Google searched its meaning. Various links came up, but none that gave a direct definition. The tab that had Noel’s Facebook page flashed. Percy had sent me a message:

‘hey noel has been sending me threatening messages. have you received any?’

I wrote back: ‘no. how could he be sending threats? did he get bailed out?’

Percy replied: ‘don’t know. im back in mt. pleasant. beat his ass for me.’

I typed ‘will do.’ and Percy logged off.

“You’re not going anywhere near him,” Mom said.

“Oh yes I am,” I said, stretching my legs. “He doesn’t shank me, threaten my friends, and get away with it.”

Mom slapped my shoulder. Pain shot through my arm. “BITCH!” I yelled, holding my arm. I could feel the stitches grinding against my skin.

“I don’t even think they’ll hire you on the boats now with that injury,” she said.

“I’ve been hurt just as bad before and have been hired on other boats.” I relaxed my arm. My armpit throbbed.

“I don’t think they’ll hire you.”

I glared. “Where did you get this info from? A Yahoo news article? A Facebook meme?”

She walked towards the living room. “I’m just telling you how it probably is.”

“Sure you are,” I said, going back to Google search.

My phone rang. Brendan’s number appeared. I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey, Brendan. You get any threatening messages?”

“Yeah, sorta,” Brendan said. “Not threats particularly, but Noel found my YouTube page and has been making shit posts on my vids. How is he even out of jail?”

“Bailed, I guess.”

The Facebook tab flashed. It was a new message from “Noel SwagGod Young”

“Guess who I just got a message from,” I said, clicking on my inbox.

“Oh, shit.”

“You doing anything right now?”

“Just packing. I’m leaving for Lansing tomorrow.”

“Come over when you can. I’m gonna need your help dealing with him.”

Noel wrote: ‘I’m not pissed, but don’t ever do that again. cool. peace.’

I wrote back: ‘do what? beat the shit out of you?’

He wrote back: ‘You cheat at games and gang up on me o fuck this I don’t even care
You offended me and I don’t have time for this nonsense I don’t care pull plug now game over. Good luck sailing. I hope you drown. Peace.’

I wrote: ‘you still in alpena? i hope i run into you so I can blow your grill out, you arrogant piece of human garbage. tell your grandma I said hello as she cooks you dinner and gives you money for beer, punk motherfucker.’

He wrote: ‘blow my grill out? what does that mean?
are you threatening me
i’m calling the cops
if i run into you we can fight like men and i will beat the shit out of you for talking trash when you dont know who you’re fucking with. grow up
little sissy boy with his fake words who has no clue what life is like
if you would have listened you could learned but instead you are part of some emo culture that talks trash. I like you but said, “blow my grill out” what does that even mean?
leave your gun at home white trash and bring your hands, ill make you squeal like the pig you are
im only responding because you threatened me . i dont know where that came from im sorry. lets drop it. good luck’

“Who are you talking to?” Mom asked, leaning over, putting her head next to mine.

“Mom, allow me to introduce you to Noel,” I said, scrolling up to the beginning of the conversation. She started reading it when it bumped up.

He wrote: ‘it really is all good. i dont know why you are threatening me. you were out of line in many regards. When you come back down to earth and want to talk, and not be a cheater, maybe we can be pals, but dont threaten my life or talk about my family. or I will take action. thank you

hey. let’s put this behind us. my bad. i’m sorry if you thought I was a jerk. Ive been really fucked over lately and i’m sorry man. I dont want to be on bad terms with you because i do like you as a human being. It’s all good. and if you ever want to get a beer with me again let me know. I believe in small first and then going from there. But i’m sorry we didn’t meet at the same standards. this was never personal. and I don’t know. just truce. good luck. to the future.’

Noel logged off. I got up and went to the freezer. Mom took my seat and scrolled up.

“Nice, huh?” I said, unwrapping a popsicle.

Brendan slurped the spaghetti Mom made last night for dinner while reading the messages Noel left.

“You threatening him back probably isn’t going to endear you to the courts,” he said.

“Fuck the courts,” I said. “I wanna take him down myself.”

“Do you know if he’s even in Alpena?”

“I’ve been monitoring his Facebook since I talked to you earlier. His last status indicated he’s still in town. We have to wait for him to check in somewhere else.”

Twenty minutes passed. I ate some of the leftover spaghetti and Brendan had a smoke. I refreshed Noel’s page, which revealed a new status that was created 12 minutes ago.

I don’t know if these fries were created in this dimension, he wrote. He was checked in at Josephs Bar.

“GOT HIM!” I said, heading to the door. Brendan stubbed his smoke and followed.

We slipped on our shoes. Mom appeared around the corner. We ran out of the door before she could question us. We hopped in Brendan’s car. It was filled with luggage.

“So much for dragging him into the car,” I said, pushing a pillow that blocked my view of Brendan out of the way.

“No fucking way!” Brendan said. “We take care of him where we’re at.”

Turning on 3rd avenue, I checked to see if Noel’s status had changed. I then called up Aunt Violet.

“Josephs Bar,” she answered.

“Hey Aunt Violet, its Floyd.”

“Hey hey dear, how are you?”

“Good. Is there a shaggy looking guy at your bar right now?”

“Shaggy? We got four guys like that in here. You gotta be more specific, honey.”
“He’s probably wearing a flannel shirt, just ordered fries.”

Brendan nearly ran a red light as we drove through downtown.

“Yep, we got a guy here like that. Do you know him?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later. Gotta go, bye.”

We pulled into Josephs a few minutes later. “I’ll go through the back, you go through the front,” Brendan said.

“Deal,” I said. “Let’s try this.”

I waited until Brendan turned the corner, then I entered the bar. I walked in, and only saw Aunt Violet and three guys playing pool. Brendan entered, scanned the floor, and looked at me.

“Hello, dear,” Aunt Violet said.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Brendan walked up. “His foods still here,”

Aunt Violet pointed to the door that led to the smoking area. “Out back.”

“Perfect,” I said. I turned to Brendan “Can you hold the door closed? I’ll knock when I’m done.”

“You sure you got this?” Brendan pointed at my arm pit.

“If I should fall, then you have the pleasure of avenging me.”

Brendan smiled. “I always wanted to do something like that.”

We counted to three, then I opened the door and we went outside. Noel was leaning up against the fence, smoking, typing on his phone. He looked up at us, and his eyes widened.

“You two have fun now,” Brendan said, exiting the smoking area.

Noel and I stared at each other. I yelled “MOTHERFUCKER!” and charged at him. He ran to the opposite fence and jumped on it. I yanked him down, then I punched him in the face. He pushed me away and ran to the door. He tried to open it. Brendan held it closed. I grabbed him by the hair, drug him to the middle of the area, and threw him to the ground.

I stomped him as fast and as hard as I could. He covered his head with his arms. I kicked him in the stomach. He curled up, arms still covering his head. I put my foot through the opening below his arms and kicked his chin. He screamed, and I continued stomping him. He coughed hard, spitting blood.

I stopped when his mumbling ceased. He laid still, then turned around and remained curled into himself. He started crying.

“This’ll happen again if I ever run into you, got it?” I said, spitting on the back of his head. Noel kept crying. “Fucking trash.”

I walked up to the door and knocked on it. Brendan opened it. I gave him a thumbs up. He peaked around the corner at Noel and whistled.

“This looks like my cue to get out of town,” he said.

“Okay, you go ahead,” I said. “My Aunt and I need to have quick chat.”

Brendan and I hugged. He ran to his car, and I went inside. The guys who were at the pool table walked past me, tapping their cigarette packs.

“You guys might want to smoke near your cars,” I said..
I saw Tony standing in front of the Diamond Points smoking tent as I crossed Werth Road. He was checking his phone. He didn’t notice me when I stepped in front of him. I waved my hand frantically. He jumped back.

“Dude, why are you so surprised?” I asked. “I should be the one in shock—you beat me here!”

“I just finished my shift.” he said.

“Oh, my bad. I thought you got done at eight.”

“Since you don’t look like you got wrecked, I take it you and Brendan fucked that Noel guy up?”

“Yeah. The only thing that hurts is my armpit.”

“Big surprise. You should have used your feet more.”

“I stomped the shit out of him! Did you expect me to go all Chun-Li on him or something?”

Tony looked at me seriously. “That would be sweet if you could kick that fast.”

“I know. But yeah, he won’t be bothering us anymore. My Aunt Violet said she’ll keep quiet. I doubt Noel will tell on me, since he probably doesn’t want to have any more contact with law enforcement.”

“What made you think that was good idea?!” a person from within the smoking tent yelled.

“Hey, your woman is so damn beautiful, man,” another person said.

“You don’t get to pat my girlfriend’s head! She’s not a fucking dog!”

“I see her more as a pussy cat than a dog.”

A man crashed through the tarp. He struggled to get up, making the tarp rip more, sending him to the ground. An arm shot out, grabbed the man by the collar, and dragged him back inside.

“How about some Chinese instead?” I asked, pointing towards the Chinese restaurant on the other side of U.S. 23.

Tony rubbed his eyes. “Just get me a drink. I really don’t care where.”