Chapter 1: Freud


"That's a bunch of horsecrap Charlie."

"No, don't say that Frank. He's like, super smart dude.." Charlie the scraggly haired bearded man asserted to the older but much shorter man. "I swear Frank, this Frodo guy, he's considered to be a freaking genius."

Frank Reynolds just rolled his eyes while his ex-son, Dennis, who was wiping down a tumbler behind the bar, smirked. "No Charlie, Einstein was the genius, Freud was actually a cocaine addict."

"Oh come on, that's not how you should talk about a national hero."

"What? He's not even American! He's from Austria or some shit, here let me see that-" Dennis grabbed the book from Charlie and flipped through the pages while Charlie muttered something about being too aggressive.

Mac, the 30 year old man, sat in the stool, puffing on a cigarette. Baby faced, with a rough brown beard that carried all his expressions, his eyes were small slits. He cut all his shirts to show off his burly arms. Tattooed in tribal celtic patterns, he lacked compassion and drank heavily. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" he burped into his beer.

"Well I guess Charlie thinks he's an expert on psychology now that he's found a book on Sigmund Freud in the trash." Dennis snorted.

"He's buying into this whole idea that people repress their true emotions and so that's the root of all psychological problems." Frank explained.

"What?" Charlie said. "That's not what I was talking about. I'm talking about Frodo-"

"His name is FREUD. You can't even read Charlie!" Dennis snapped

Mac took a sip of his beer. "Repressed thoughts. Sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus to me. The only book you need, Charlie my man, is the bible.."

Dee walked into the bar, dressed up in heels and makeup. She was tall, blonde with blue eyes, and the heels made her look ever taller. "So... what do you guys think?" The four men looked up at her.

"You look like giant bird." Mac said dryly, muffling his mouth with the beer bottle before anything else came out. The other guys looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

Deandra Reynolds rolled her eyes. "Whatever, the only bird I see here is you bunch of turkeys. Now if you don't mind, I'm off on my date."

"Hey wait a minute now Dee, I certainly do mind." Dennis, her older brother turned to her, book still in hand. "You don't get off work for another four hours."

She tapped a freshly manicured nail on her chin thoughtfully. "Well you see Dennis, the thing is, I don't really care about that." Dee's blonde hair bounced behind her as walked out. Mac's gaze lingered after her and he felt his stomach curdle. He looked at his bottle of Stella, and wondered if he accidentally drank Charlie's cheap sewage-beer again.

"Can you believe her?" Dennis snapped. "She leaves early to go on a date and totally ditches out on her job. AND disrespects my authority as bar-owner. I could just.. I could just..." he wrangled the air with his fingers, a psychotic expression passing his face before blinking back to reality.

Charlie cocked a brow, reeling back slightly from Dennis's manicness. "Dude you should really consider reading up on this Frodo guy man. This guy says, that people who don't like, you know, acknowledge their subconscious thoughts and whatever, that they hide in their brain , they could have huge mental problems."

"What are you saying Charlie? Are you saying I have mental problems?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying dude. 'cause you have to admit, you've got a lot of repressed energy."

"Don't psychoanalyze me Charlie!" Dennis yelled, "when you're the one who's borderline retarded!"

The bickering commence and Mac lazily pushed himself out of his seat. He had thirst for some excitement. He needed to go gamble, or go to strip club, or something. Something to fill the void that was constantly gnawing at him. Unfortunately, the bar was not generating enough income as usual, so Mac was flat broke. All he could do was step outside and lit up a cigarette. The air in Philly was freezing cold and he wondered if Dee took a jacket with her when she left.