Cinco de Mariachi Super Moon Madness

The Writer’s Cramp for 05/06/2012
Contest prompt: “Today is not only Cinco de Mayo, it's also Derby Day (138th Running of the Kentucky Derby), and there's a full moon tonight! YIKES! In honor of all three happening on the same day, write a STORY or POEM about anything you want, but it must contain all of the following words/phrases - they may be used in any order, but they must be bolded, and not edited in any way.”
987 words

***

The patrons of the bar were louder than the questionable music played by the mariachi band but most were too drunk to care. The bartender was too busy to be bothered but the bouncer wished he could put in earplugs. The distressed look on his muscular face told the story. His sheer bulk made sitting on the bar stool difficult, and as he tried to look tough with his arms crossed, he struggled not to slip off and make a total fool of himself.

The owners loved this evening’s packed house and how much they’d make tonight but the bouncer was worried that the Cinco de Mayo festivities would lead to the inevitable bar brawl. He loved a good fight, of course, but it was his job to stop them and that was sometimes difficult without hurting someone, which was bad for business. And what was bad for business was bad for him, because he didn’t want to get fired again for being too rough with misbehaving customers.

There was something this celebration that turned even the regulars into drunken brawlers, not to mention the tourists who were always inebriated beyond self-control. But tonight was different and more celebratory than usual. The drinking establishment was located just outside of Louisville where 138th running of the Kentucky Derby had occurred earlier, and the jockeys had found their way into the bar. The small men were celebrating like a bunch of sailors who just got off a “dry” ship after a very long voyage.

And to make it worse yet, it was a full moon tonight, and the full moon made people crazy. But tonight wasn’t just a full moon, but a “super moon” where the moon was at apogee, its closest orbit to Earth and sixteen percent brighter than average. He knew there would be a fight tonight. He just knew it.

“Barkeep!” one of the jockey’s yelled in a loud and high pitched voice from his table. “I’ll have another, no, we’ll all have another and toast to the winning horse: I’ll Have Another,” he shouted.

“That horse was appropriately named,” another jockey commented, slurring every word as he tried to maneuver a triangular-shaped tortilla chip into a dish of guacamole. He missed.

“Let’s get out of here and make a sloppy track to the next pub,” another jockey squeaked. Nobody was listening and so he just drank some more beer from his pint-sized glass, which seemed particularly large in his hands.

“Everybody out of the bar now!” a man shouted authoritatively from the far side of the room near the entrance. A few people looked over but no one made their way to the door. “You are all in danger,” he yelled, which only made a number of people toast “To danger!!!” simultaneously.

The bouncer shook his head and groaned complaints about the full moon lunatics. He stomped over to the man at the entrance with his arms crossed. “Stop trying to scare the customers, buddy,” he demanded. “The owners don’t like that.” The bouncer looked the man over wearing a leather hat and curiously sewn together body armor. “What’s with the crossbow?” he asked.

“The silver bolts are more effective from crossbow than rifle,” the man said. “The extreme heat from the propellant can neutralize the blessing of the holy man. Now please step aside so I may execute my sworn duty!”

“You ain’t gunna be executing anyone in here tonight,” the bouncer growled, shoving the strange man out through the door and tumbling into the street. The man rolled and hopped back up to his feet the moment the bouncer had turned his back and re-entered the bar. He hadn’t even returned to his stool in the center of the bar when the man with the crossbow returned inside as well, pointing a bolt at the bouncer’s back. The string twanged loudly before anyone could even warn him. The bolt whooshed past his right ear and struck a trumpeter of the mariachi band whose instrument was flung into the air as he spun around onto the dance floor.

A woman screamed as the music stopped. A couple of the other mariachis tended to their fallen trumpeter as the fattest one pointed at the man with the crossbow. He threw off his sombrero and shouted, “There’s the guy who shot Luis! Get him!”

Brandishing their musical instruments like weapons, they charged across the bar at the man who shot their friend. It all happened so quickly that by the time the bouncer had actually turned around, three mariachis had pushed past him. The fat mariachi was right behind them and shoved the muscular bouncer out of the way into the table of jockeys, knocking the table over and propelling the small men into the air. They crashed down onto the floor where they were pelted with shot glasses raining down from above.

“Oh crap,” the man in the leather hat muttered, as he witnessed the mariachis charging towards him. He ran outside and around the building into the woods and up a hill in the darkness. The hill crested a dozen feet up and he was faced with the rising giant super moon to the east.

The moonlight lit up the entire hillside, and the moon shadow he cast stretched down to where the pursuing mariachis who were hot on his trail as if they were following his scent. “I knew I should have gotten out here earlier,” he moaned, turning around to see the mariachi costumes tear off the backs of the transforming werewolves.

The largest werewolf continued to chase him as he ran down the hill for his very life. The others returned to the bar to begin their bloodbath. The bouncer was ready for a fight this evening, knowing the super moon would bring out the crazies, but this was not what he had expected. He put up a pretty good fight.