whatswrong

i walk into the bar alone at noon and sit down. there are a handful of geezers sitting quietly. i look at the bartender and recognize her faintly from before. i give her a smile and order a beer. i sit and drink my beer, i order another. i raise myself from the warm spot at the bar and go to the jukebox, i play half a dozen songs.

i order another beer and step outside for a smoke. as i do so i can't help but notice the obnoxious bastard walking into the bar. he's the type of bastard who thinks his cleverness is charming. he's loud and somewhere along the lines he was confused into thinking that his large size meant he was strong. his saunter is over confident. i already don't like him.

i walk back in the bar and as i pass him he nods at me, "how ya livin' ?". i ignore him. i sit back down and think that what i have on my hands is the making of a perfect Hollywood bar fight scene. the one where he gets in 2 or 3 good licks and then i break his face with mine and while he lays on the ground mumbling i say something smooth and walk away.

at the other end of the bar the man is growing increasingly rude with the bartender. she comes down to where im sitting and leans against the bar. she is young, pretty. she doesn't have the typical bags under her eyes that most female bartenders have from doing too much coke. "im gonna talk to you since your sitting here being polite". we ridicule the obnoxious bastard loudly and throw a few peanuts at him. when he looks about, wondering if something actually hit him or if he was imagining it, we laugh and call him names like "lumberjack" and "fucktard".

at some point he got the hint he wasn't wanted and left in haste. down comes the bartender smiling. in her hands she has a wallet. "he forgot this here" she says, holding out his wallet to me. i open it, find 45 dollars and a very unflattering Drivers License. we split the cash and throw away the credit card. job well done

i love days that pay for themselves