This is a true story that my Uncle told me a couple years ago... First short story I've written in a long time too...

Smack, The loud sound of an open-handed slap to the skin of a face.

“Damn man, I hear this almost every damn night,” said CJ to his good friend Dan sitting in a lazy boy next to him.

“What’s up with your neighbors?” asked Dan.

“He beats up on his wife way too much man,” said a frustrated CJ with his shoulders shrugged.

Slap, A painful scream came through the thin drywall separating the two apartments. Some muffled angry voices kept the two distracted from the television. CJ lived in an old apartment complex that wasn’t in the best neighborhood in town, but it worked for his budget. The complex was four stories and snot green color. The staircase was rusty and shaky, the paint was peeling off the walls, and the sign in the parking lot had missing lights that read STEHEDGH instead of STONEHENGE. His apartment was a good size for him one-bedroom and one-bath. He had only lived there for a short while, but could hear the man and his wife next door and their struggling relationship.

“You ever say or do anything about what’s going on over there? I’m sure that you’d scare the shit out of him,” said Dan. He was referring to CJ’s tall intimidating linebacker like frame.

“I hate to hear it and I hate to confront other people about their problems, but I probably will say something if the chance arises,” CJ said with a vengeful look in his eyes. “It’s finally quieted down over there. I need to get some sleep,” said a yawning CJ.

A couple days later, CJ and Dan met up at a bar around the corner from CJ’s apartment. The bar was pretty much a dive, but it was their dive. Inside were a few customers’, mostly old alcoholics slumped over their barstools giving an occasional mumble or glance around the bar. It was all wood inside with a depressing red glow from the red bulbs spread through the room. The jukebox in the back corner explained the bar. The music hadn’t been changed for a good twenty years. CJ and Dan would often start their nights at this bar to have a few drinks before they went to more lively places.

“What can I get you boys?” asked the elderly bartender. He was washing a glass.

“A couple of Crown on the rocks Al,” replied Dan. They sucked down a couple of drinks fairly quickly and paid the bartender. They left the bar and ended up at a club where they drank for most of the night and also danced and tried to pick up on women. Both were fairly intoxicated by the time they left the club and didn’t need to go anywhere but home. Dan was close enough to walk home.

“All right man, I’ll catch you later, I’m gonna catch me a cab home. Hit me up when you get off work,” CJ said to his friend. His words were slurred

CJ grabbed the first cab that went by. “Third and Hobart,” CJ said.

The taxi took off towards his apartment and weaved in and out of traffic as if it were a race to his apartment. They arrived at CJ’s complex and he paid the cabbie. CJ lit up a cigarette as the cab left his apartment complex and thought back over the night. He leaned against the semi-lit sign and figured to be there until the end of his cigarette. He soon noticed a couple arguing in the lot no more than forty feet away from him. He recognized that it was his neighbors and saw the husband slap his wife and yelled, “Why the fuck were you looking at him. You don’t love him you love me bitch,” said the husband. Seeing the man smack his wife a couple of times along with a little alcoholic encouragement made CJ stroll across the parking lot to confront this wife beater.

“What the fuck is your problem. Man to man I can understand, but didn’t anyone ever teach you not to hit a woman?” CJ yelled sarcastically.

“Shit man you don’t know me. You don’t know what this is about, so mind your own business,” said the wife beater in a tough guy voice.

“Somebody needs to beat your ass and teach your ass how to treat a woman, I’m sorry that I can only do half,” said CJ.

“You don’t know where I’m comin from, I’m from Philly back up off me. This isn’t any of your business so get the fuck out of here, she was the one that needed to be taught what she can and can’t do,” said the wife beater. This was the type of guy that used his voice to back people down, but CJ wasn’t the type of person that was easily intimidated.

That was enough for CJ to hear and it sounded like CJ’s right fist was invited to a party on his left cheek. His fist accepted the invitation and arrived a half second early, right cross connected. Just one punch staggered him making the tough guy fall to the ground. CJ’s fists took off airport style 3rd on takes off while the 2nd one lands. CJ continued hitting him in the face as the wife beater tried to grab a brick on the ground. CJ stood at full posture and swatted him down the small three-step staircase. The wife beater lay on the ground with a puffed up face and curled up in the fetal position.

The cops pulled up with their lights flashing and two officers hopped out of the squad car ready to protect and serve. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” said the policeman with his gun drawn.

CJ looked to the rusty staircase of the apartment complex and saw the wife crying holding a phone. She ran over to her man to hold him and apologize to him making it sound like it was her fault that he got beat up. The cops pushed CJ to the ground and with a knee in the small of his back and slapped some cuffs on him. They went to the wife beater and helped him stand up made sure he was okay and didn’t need any medical help. The cops pulled CJ, the criminal, off the ground to read him his rights.

“God damn. This was not part of the plan,” CJ said to the officer as he was pushed into the back of the squad car.