Sorry so loooooong! Sooooo busy. ];
Anyways, since I'm so brain ded...har har...I cannot think for shiz about the cow.
SO. I asked my homie Connor aka "The Letter M" to write Chapter 4! :D
He is now a new addition to the Brain Ded team.
TREAT HIM WELL.
Jack slouched at the bar nursing his eighth bourbon of the night. After losing that last game of poker, he headed straight to the bar and started drinking. That was four hours ago.
“Not your night, huh Jack?” The bartender asked. Like all bartenders, he was learned in the art of sympathy.
“No...not my night.” Jack parroted back to him, downing the last of his bourbon. “I used to be lucky, you know. Real lucky.”
“Oh yeah? So what the hell happened?” The bartender asked with a smirk. He knew Jack wasn't a good tipper, so he could be as rude as he wanted.
"As soon as I figure it out, I'll tell you.” Jack said with a sigh. Without another word, he pulled a couple of bucks out of his pocket, placed them on the bar, put his hat on his head, and walked out into the night. The bartender started washing the eight glasses Jack had left behind, and was almost done with the seventh when Jack, wild-eyed and panicked, burst back in through the door.
“There's a car!” Jack screamed at the top of his lungs. “There's a car in my parking space!”
“So what?” The bartender asked, annoyed by the sudden shouting.
“Well I didn't come here in a car, I flew here on a cow! There should be a cow in my space!” Jack explained helpfully.
“Okay, Jack, give me your keys.” The bartender demanded. He'd been through this exact scenario a thousand times. Jack was obviously drunk beyond reason, and who would be liable if he crashed into a bus full of nuns? The bartender, that's who.
“Cows don't have keys!” Jack shouted, surprised at the bartender's idiocy. “Somebody must have stolen it while I was inside. That's why I lost the game, don't you see? THAT'S WHY I LOST THE GAME!”
“Listen Jack, there's a cot out back, why don't you go sleep it off. No charge.”
“No time!” Jack exclaimed. “I might still be able to find them!”
“Find who?”
“Whoever stole my cow!” and with that Jack rushed back out into the street. But when you are drunk and all out of luck, the street is a dangerous place. Jack had been supernaturally lucky for five years, and now the universe was out for revenge. Jack immediately stepped in a puddle, and the slick pavement gave way beneath his leather shoe. He hurdled several feet forwards, and just barely steadied himself in time to avoid falling on his face.
But while he managed to avoid falling on his face, he was now standing in the middle of the road, and he didn't manage to avoid an oncoming van. “It's just not my night, is it?” was the last thought to go through his head before everything went black.
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