Painting Johnny Iron's house

 I'd been waiting for 20 minutes for an Uber.
By the look of things on my phone, i'd be waiting much longer.
I looked down the street from the hospital I was at. I remembered an old friend, Johnny Irons.
Happy go lucky chap. 
"wanna ride?" Taxi cab cruising slowly window cracked open.
"No I think i'm going to visit a friend."

"Johnny are you home?" Noone was there, I let myself in. A one story wooden house spacey and simple.
Made a coffee and the sound of a v8 motor came bursting aggressively through the walls and windows.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He gave me a confused hug not quite knowing the amount of affection to put into it.
"I was up at the hospital" I answered.
"Oh I know how that goes, my Dad is there in the next room, his healths not great."
"Is he okay, I let myself in, you wanna check on him?"
"No he will be up soon, last night he went on a bender."
"Can't be good for the old fella"
"Lost his job and mum left him the same week."

We looked down at our coffee.
"Wanna help me paint?"
"Yeah why not?" I volunteered.
His sister Mary walked in from the street "Is Dad up yet?"
"No he'll be sleeping in, Bender."
"We've got to find him a job or he's going to go mad."

The deck in his back yard was well built.
"Perfect for summer evenings" I remarked.
"Yep" Johnny responded.
"So how's work?"
"Bro I need to come clean, I also lost my job. And I´m totally hung over."
"Terrible news, do you want to come work at my farm?"
He just looked at me as if offended.

"I just came back this morning from getting a new tattoo."
"what it is it?" 
Johnny lifted his shirt from the waist to reveal a set of skulls hovering below his belly button.
"Oh wow" I pretended.
"scored some primo hash, wanna smoke?"
"Nah man left that stuff, it brings me down."

Our paintbrushes slowly made their way through the entire coat.
"what makes you make such shit decisions every single day of your God given life, man? You speak like your homeless your close to forty five, you still do drugs and get tattoos."
"Oh harsh bro, do you talk to all your friends like that?"
"Only when I'm being real with them. You are getting old and it seems you just don't care. All your problems seem to stem from the fact that you just don't give a fuck about anything, you didn't even ask me why I was at the hospital." I added.
His father walked out onto the patio. "What the fuck are you talking to my son like that for, you faggot?"
"Oh you must be the shitkicker father, did you not teach your son to be a man?"
"Fuck you arsehole "He picked up the whole can of paint and threw it at my face.
"Ah, get your Dad under control." I shouted.
Johnny took a swing at me but missed.
His father exchanged blows with me until we were both exhausted, he fell down on the dusty ground and opened his cigarette pack. I positioned myself to kick him in the head as hard as I could, but I stopped seeing just how sick he was. Instead I said.
"You even gave up the fight so you could feed your smoking habit. And your dying!" 
"Ill get my shotgun" Johnny ran into the house 

I ran toward the back gate that connected onto another adjoining to the hospital. Tripped on the last step and hurt my shoulder.
"Go get fucked losers, where do you think you are, this is not some fucking slum. you are not gangsters or clever hustlers, you are Shit kickers." I screamed this until every internal organ stung.

As I walked into the street, my head bleeding. I looked right to where the road would take me home, and looked back up toward the hospital, maybe it was the paint fumes, but it seemed that the six story building(hospital) was grinning down at me.

On my way back to the hospital, the taxicab man passed by me.
"You look worse for wear, Shoulda taken the ride chap."