Johnny Concussion always gets back up

I’m becoming convinced that this witch-hunter guy doesn’t know anything about magic.  Maybe he knows about it like his sister, but I’m starting think that he’s full of shit instead of magic.   Maybe this witch hunting thing is all crap.  Maybe’s he’s crazy.  Just because magic is real doesn’t mean that someone that thinks magic is real isn’t crazy. 

He insisted on coming with me to scope out the honeycomb hideout.  Golden Boy told me that the rituals they conduct happen in a secret underground bunker.  I shit you not.  He said that at the Timberlake Township Country Club, you go into the middle of the hedge maze there’s a statue of Confederate Colonel James E. McCord. The base of that statue opens up into a stairway down into the ritual chamber.  Only he didn’t know how to open it. 

How the fuck does something like this get made?  Are there contractors that will give you a quote on a secret staircase under a statue? 

Our plan was to wait until after dark and skulk around.  Our waiting plan was to hang at a bar nearby and drink until it was dark.  That plan went sideways when someone bashed me in the skull with a beer bottle out of nowhere.   

I’ve been knocked around pretty good in the ring and out, not to mention stabbed.  One time I got approximately 50 concussions in two minutes.  And of course, there was the Havana 10-man ass kicking.  Given all that, I tell you now, getting smashed with that bottle hurt more than anything else.  In the movies they make it seem like it’s no big deal.  I call bullshit on that.   

I slumped into the floor and lay there.  I wasn’t unconscious but I might as well have been.  For a good thirty seconds I couldn’t move.  I saw, sort of, the angle was funny because I was on the ground, Bernal fighting with some Texas shitkickers – he may not be magic but he knows how to throw hands.   

Once I had feeling in my arms again, I tried to cast my healing spell but it was like trying to thread a needle after six bottles of vodka – there was no way.  I was fucking helpless.  The tide turned on Bernal, but at that point some third party came up with a 44 and started yelling for everyone to stop fighting.  I found out later he was an off-duty sheriff.   

There was some racial stuff yelled, they thought Bernal was Mexican, which he is I guess, but they were being racist inaccurately.  And then they walked out.  The sheriff didn’t try to stop them.  I guess this was just a “boys will be boys” write-off.   

Meanwhile I have a piece of glass jammed in my head. 

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