Saturday, 10 AM, Bucks Bar and Grill
I got up early today, lifted weights, worked with the dog a little and then I came here. I woke up pissed off and I thought that lifting weights would get it out of me like it usually does, but not this time.
I'm sure that you have been there before, when everything from the coffee maker taking too long to brew, to the lawnmower not starting, to the refrigerator dinging when you left it open too long gets on your very last nerve. You think about punching the refrigerator, but decide against it. You have done stupid stuff like that before. You are older now, wiser.
I decide to go to Buck's instead.
I put a few songs on the jukebox, some Haggard, Chris Knight, and of course, Hank. I take a stool way back in the corner. Just felt the need to sit in a dark, cool bar, to have a beer and watch some games for a few hours. I don't give a shit if anyone thinks it's too early to drink or not.
In fact, I only give a fuck about a few things in this world, and what people think ain’t one of them. I stare at the the neon Budweiser sign behind the bar as it blinks and begins to fizzle out.
Something wrong with your sign there, I say
Snake the bartender says, Yup, been that way for awhile.
Ever thought of fixing it?
No, I reckon I haven't. I nod my head.
And that was that. And I thought to myself, why did I just have a conversation about a beer sign? Seems like some wasted words that I can't get back.
In walks Johnny Twiz. I don't know his real last name . He ate a bunch of Twizzlers all the time when he was in high school so that became his nickname. So he walks into the bar. I guess that Johnny is around six foot two and two fifty. Has some fat on him, but a big dude. Big bully in high school and 20 years later, still a bully. He always wanted to fight me for some reason, at least that's what I heard. Kick my ass and make a name for himself. Always telling people how I am not so tough. Just noises coming out of a hole in his big dumb head.
I avoid shit like that all the time, just not worth the trouble with the law and all. But this morning I was not in the mood. He walks over to me, sits down, orders some pussy craft beer. I have never liked the guy.
How are you doing, Superstar?
Good, just trying to drink my beer.
So you want to be left alone?
Yep, that'd be great. Leave me alone.
Damn, ain't you uppity.
Not uppity, just sitting here by myself. I emphasized the by myself part.
No reason to be a dick.
Well if you would leave me alone, I wouldn't be a dick to you, now would I?
I think you need your ass kicked.
Now I knew that this guy was half crazy, but I had been stuffing my crazy side way down inside of me for a long time and I could feel it bubbling to the surface.
I’d leave me alone if I were you
Then he stood up and pushed me. And my Budweiser spilled on the barroom counter.
Hee hee you spilled your beer.
I guess I did.
He was standing there with a dumbass smile on his face, pointing at me and laughing at me as Snake began to clean the beer off of the bar. I stood up and punched him with a straight right hand as hard as I could, right on the chin. Motherfucker dropped to his knees. Best punch that I have thrown. I couldn't help myself. I lifted up his chin and hit him again. This time he fell flat on his back and was out cold.
I looked back at the bartender and he said
He's an asshole. I didn't see nothin.
Thanks, Snake
Better get going, Slim.
I am , buddy.
Don't worry about the tab, I got it. What a punch!
Thanks, brother, and I appreciate it.
I put a 20 on the bar as a tip for Snake.
On the way out, I nodded to a few of the regulars. I felt better now.
