Jonas' Party

Deep chillwave bumps from speakers laying on the wooden deck of Universe Coffee and Beer Garden. They were delivered for the event tonight. Jonas Jones, Austin's coolest tech artist, is turning 30 but officially tonight he is hosting a summer solstice party. Being the premiere art party of the summer, Universe is packed with Austin's finest groups of grungy weirdos and other uber clean-cut folks who look like they came from the future. A freelance social media duo was hired to capture live content of the event from unusual angles and get close-ups. It was a hot summer day but the sun went down and the heat burned out with the sun, only the humidity sticking to the air. Fairy lights are strung up around Universe and it's nights like these where they really shine. The gardens are magical in the light: illuminated fountains, sculptures and fashionable guests. The guests being truly worthy of their spotlights:

There's Tina Titmouse, a thick woman covered in tattoos who sleeps with more girls than any man could.

Rex Rompus, owner and operator of Tex Rex Radical Ranch, a junk-art yard full of sculptures. He is so hairy that his eyebrows connect to his hair at the temples.

Yolanda Yardbird levitates around the party like she does at her goat yoga ashram. Her blonde hair like a cape as she smiles at glints at groups of guests.

And of course, there is Jonas. There is not a dot of sweat on his head while wearing a thick white turtleneck sweater. Maybe it's because he is so tall and skinny the sweat just blows off of him at that altitude. Guests crowd around him as he talks down to them over his black glasses. He's charming and gregarious for someone in tech, his oversized mouth telling jokes as his hands and arms zip like a jellyfish. The circle around him giggles in lines up and down and left and right.

Spinny Spinkler rents space at Rex's. He's a 23 year old sculptor / smartphone repairman who grew up 10 miles from Universe where he still lives. His blond mop head hangs low as looks at dogs sniffing each other. He's as skinny as Jonas but doesn't have his height. Tina Titmouse would snap his feminine body cross-wise in her bedroom. He's met more dogs than people here tonight but his work at Rex's shows promise so he received an invite. There's really only one person he hopes approaches him tonight, Cindy Salsaberry.

Five years ago Cindy declared, "I fuckin' hate you dad! I hope you end up in a ditch!" as she ran from the front porch of their dilapidated cottage outside Waco, Texas and stepped high into Whitey's rusty red Ford Bronco truck and sped away.

Bounding after her he yelled, "You fat whore you'll wish you never disgraced this house. I'll strangle you silly if you ever come back here!" Swanson "Scooter" Salsaberry Jr. was strangled silly and left in a ditch two weeks later and Cindy never went back.

Whitey was her protector. A sturdy young man who always wore white tank-tops and boots. She felt her father couldn't touch her when he was around. He played contact sports, football, wrestling and lumberjacking. Lumberjacking isn't a contact sport nor is it defined as a sport in many places. But he made it a contact sport when he swung an axe at his competitor who was lucky to block it with his own. Whitey ended up with a black eye and a broken nose but his victim lost a toe and Whitey was never allowed to compete again and did some time for it. The high school football coach snuck him onto the field with a new number on his jersey in the fall.

Whitey and Cindy were inseparable through high school. They felt destined for love. But that hot Texas afternoon when Cindy told her dad to "end up in a ditch", that was her last time around Waco. Her and Whitey camped at Grackle Gorge that night, made love and talked about the rest of their lives in the back of his truck. Their romantic getaway couldn't last forever and Whitey had to go back to work at Smiley Slimy's Auto Parts and dropped Cindy off at her Grandma's house.

Cindy's grandma, may she rest in peace, was a notorious hippy. She never understood Cindy but always wanted what was best for her.

Cindy steamed about her dad over a floral port of herbal tea, sitting across from grandma in her living room. Grandma's parlor was covered with tie-dyed tapestries. Large twenty foot tapestries on the walls and ceilings made a groovy nest in which they sat. White Sage incense burns on a designer table nearby.

"He treats me like dog shit grandma. He is so horrible. He's a monster."

"He has his own demons dear. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone... does his best. To his own determent"

"Well I sure as hell can't go back there. No. Way. In. Hell."

Grandma took in a deep breath and petted Cindy's arm, "I have something for you honey". She got up slowly and returned with a marijuana cigarette that she lit and handed to Cindy. They smoked the hand-rolled slug and next thing Cindy knew she was in Austin spending her mornings making coffee for folks and singing open mics at night. She swapped her American flag tank-tops for tie-dyes and left Whitey resentful in the rear view.

Spinny stands like a lamp post by the taco truck parked on the gravel where some artisanal dogs were left leashed by their fluttery owners. His beer untouched.

"Spinny! What the hell you doin' over here boy?" Rex says. He has a paper dish full of fresh tacos in one hand.

"Hey Rex. Honestly I don't know anybody here"

"Well you know me that's good enough" he says, fitting a whole pork taco in his mouth, swallowing after three or so bites. "Come with me Spinny I'll introduce you". Rex brings Spinny around to a group of lithe characters. Some black folks wearing all black clothes and some stick-skinny mustached white boys wearing plaid and cowboy hats.

The freelance social media duo is interested in this group like a fly to shit. The two of them buzz over. One has a 6-camera iPhone 14S on a selfie stick and other a Bluetooth microphone. Thousands of eyes sit home on their couches to catch a glimpse of this artsy glamorous event. They half-watch the live stream coverage while half-watching TV or half-eating dinner with their loved ones. But one man watches intently from a basement. He sits in a lawn chair under industrial lights drinking Jim Beam Kentucky whiskey. Days-old yellow sweat stains the sides of his white tank-top. His eyes scan all the corners of the screen looking for one girl. The screen he ogles jostles between lithe artists and magical fairy lit backdrops until something makes him jump in his seat.

"Hey Spinny!"

"Cindy". They half-hug.

The man in the basement pummels his fist on top of his boxy computer before pushing his chair, draining his cup of whiskey and firing up his truck.

"How have you been man? How's work at Rex's?"

"It's good, it's still untitled but my iron chapel project is coming along" he says with a nervous smile. Moving his bangs out of his eyes with his hand.

"I can't wait to see it" her eyes beam into his. Rex looks over. No longer concerned about Spinny, he takes the rest of his tacos elsewhere.

"Me too" he blushes. "When's your next gig?"

"Oof well if ol' mama Genie had her way I'd never sing at McLila's again." She sighs and looks down for a moment before perking back up. "But the crowd there liked me and her nephew really runs the place you know? He's a nice boy he puts me in the lineup when he can. But he's not as nice as you" she pokes him and they both smile. "Let's get me a drink"

If Spinny had a moment to think, he would realize that he would never forget this evening. Cindy's blue eyes and wide smile are illuminated, made magical in the light. Her firecracker personality has them hipping and hawing, laughing so hard they are bent over crying. Eventually Jonas stops the music and makes a loose speech about the earth turning in the universe (he should have thanked Universe for hosting him) before allowing the guests to return to their conversations. Cindy leads Spinny to a two-person Adirondack chair away from the groups.

"Hey Cindy..." he says smiling with hope in his eyes and she pulls him in and kisses him. They break away for a moment and then started making out.

Spinny starts feeling heat down below until a booming howl breaks through the deep house music. "Cindy Salsaberry you bitch!". The artsy folks feign calm as they turn towards the voice thinking it could be some performance art. The DJ sees this beast and realizes better, hitting pause. The only sounds are the fountain water gurgling and an aged Whitey Wraithback grunting breath from his lungs. His hairy shoulders slump as he stands sweating into the pits of a white tank-top. Spinny looks at Cindy who looks at this fat grey man. Cindy stands. Her and Whitey like desperadoes at high noon, ready to draw guns. The guests slink into corners of the gardens.

"Whitey? What the hell are you doing here?"

Jonas is indignant cruising over to the beast "Excuse me kind gentleman". He would have talked much more, knowing the party's attention included him, if Whitey didn't turn and plow his meaty fist in to Jonas's nose. POW!. Jonas fell to the ground. Gasps from the guests.

"You unfaithful whore"

"You have no right. Do you think we are still together? I left you years ago" Her words didn't reach him because his brain is processing voices like an animal's. His bloodshot eyes become glossy and he reveals a handgun in the back of his waistband. BANG BANG BANG thunderous shots. Whitey fired shells into Cindy and Spinny until shots from the skinny mustached group dropped Whitey's body.