Excerpt: My Best Friend is a Cultist

“Jason. We should Go.”
In spite of my marathon purging session in the men's room, I hadn't exactly recovered enough to trust my legs in a pinch. Jason sensed my plight, and came up with a clever distraction. He shoved as hard as he could, and sent the bar fly straight towards her lumbering lover. This would have worked marvelously, except for two problems. First of all, she had her legs wrapped around Jason still, and instead of staggering conveniently in the path of destruction, she just kinda went over backwards onto the floor.
“Ow! What the hell was that for!?” The pain seemed to be the only message her brain received, though, as she still remained blissfully ignorant of the monster now charging the bar at flank speed.
“Whut the fuck did you just do to mah womun! You lil' piece uh sheeeut!” I wasn't terribly familiar with this dialect, however it did sound as though Jason had further aggravated the beast.
There was a second problem that we still had to contend with. The bar that Jason had carefully selected for us earlier in the evening had a wonderful selection of liquors, domestic beers, and even your choice of billiards or darts. Unfortunately, it was a rather narrow space though, squeezed in between a large hardware store and the local post office. The bar itself was towards the back. Which meant that there was really only one way out, and it was currently blocked by the attack trained lumberjack/linebacker who was gunning for my companion. We were essentially at the wrong end of a blind alley, and even if the distraction had worked, we were still in trouble.
“Mack! Back me up here!”
“Absolutely, right behind you!” I mumbled. I sprang into action, my plan of action elegant in its simplicity. I had noticed a pool que leaning up against the wall just opposite of the bar. If I was fast enough, I could grab it, javelin our foe, and create just enough of an opening for us to beat a hasty retreat. Summoning the spirit of Odysseus, I lept from my stool, ready to bring down the cyclops facing us.
I made it roughly a step and a half from the barstool when the laws of physics sabotaged my efforts and the floor hit me squarely in the face.