Zap, Donnie, and You’re Done

by Daniel W. Davis

     It was storming, which was probably what brought it up, though with people like Earl and Tom Ray, you can never really tell. They might’ve meant to bring it up at some point past but got lost in their pitchers, and only remembered now, when a peel of thunder brought it back to their attention.
     Whatever the case, it didn’t matter much for Donnie, ’cause it was all just the same, and he figured it would’ve had to’ve happened sooner or later anyways. Fifteen minutes of fame, in a small town, has a way of stretching out longer. Sometimes it feels like an eternity.
     Donnie was at the bar with his back turned when Earl and Tom Ray came up and sat down on either side of him. It wasn’t in a threatening way—the two talked a big game, but even Donnie knew they couldn’t play worth a shit. Instead, both men ordered a beer, same brand as Donnie was nursing, and when the bartender came and collected their money, Earl said, "Ain’t you Donnie Sanderson?"
     Donnie nodded and mumbled that he was.
     Tom Ray slapped the bar and laughed. "Well I’ll be! The Donnie Sanderson! Lightning Boy!"
     There were only a handful of patrons in the bar, but they all looked up, frowning. The music was low that night, and though Donnie hated it whenever bar music was loud, right then he began cursing whoever had turned down the volume.
     Earl leaned in closer. His breath stank of beer and barbeque wings. "You’re famous, ain’t ya?"
     Donnie shook his head. "Nossir. Just popular."
     Tom Ray was apparently tickled by that, too, for he began laughing again and almost fell off his stool. The bartender approached and said, "Careful there, Tom Ray. Why don’t you boys just let this man enjoy his drink? He’s had it rough enough."
     "Ain’t you got customers?" Earl said, and the bartender scowled at him but left.
     "Tell us," Tom Ray said. "Donnie, man, you gotta tell us the story."
     "You’ll address him as Mr. Sanderson," Earl said. "He’s a celebrity."
     "No." Donnie finished his beer. "I ain’t no celebrity. I think I’m done—"
     "Nah." Earl put a hand on his shoulder—not threateningly, but not too nicely, either. "I’ll get you another. On me."
     Donnie nodded and relaxed as the bartender brought another beer and Earl paid. The two men then introduced themselves, and Donnie properly introduced himself, which seemed enough for Earl, because he said, "Donnie, why don’t you tell us the story? I mean, shit, you musta told it a million times already, in the newspapers and everything. But how often we get to hear it from the source himself, you know?"
     "It ain’t much of a story, guys."
     "’Course it is." Tom Ray placed his hand on Donnie’s other shoulder. "Wouldn’t have made the papers and the TV if it weren’t a good story."
     Donnie shrugged. "Well, you know."
     "Come on." Earl’s voice wasn’t quite to the point of demanding, but it was clear that he would be getting there before too long. "Just tell us."
     "Was it mystical?" Tom Ray asked. "I kinda figure, you know, it would be &what’s the word &fantastical? Yeah, fantastical."
     "No." Donnie shook his head and took a drink. "It was the worst feeling of my life."
     "Well, tell us then." Earl slapped his shoulder. "Come on, buddy. Ain’t no sense keeping a story that good to yourself."
     Donnie closed his eyes. There was himself, and the bar, and these two men.
There was the beer in his hand, and there was the background music on the jukebox. And there was his story, swirling around in his head, which these two men already knew front to back but wanted to hear again because it was the kind of story people just liked to hear. The kind of story that told them there’s more to the world than they could imagine. The kind of story that makes them feel good they aren’t the other guy.
     "I got struck by lightning," Donnie said. "That’s what happened."
     "Yeah," Tom Ray said. "But what about the cat?"
     "The cat got struck too."
     "Is it true you lit up like a Christmas tree? I heard you were glowin’ like a firecracker on the Fourth of July."
     "I don’t think so."
     "Really? ’Cause I heard they could see you clear across the county." Tom Ray laughed. "Dora Mae Westfield said in the paper she looked out her window to check on the storm, and saw a bright light and thought a UFO had landed."
     "I don’t think I glowed."
     "Your hair burn off? I heard that too. You were as bald as a baby’s ass."
     Donny patted his head. "No sir."
     "Well." Tom Ray grunted. "Damn, then."
     Earl chuckled. "Donnie, man, you don’t tell a story too good."
     "I just lived it."