Patton Lee Beaugus | December 6, 2010 4:45pm
It looked like a standoff between the PartyMob and all of Rudy's, which if not exactly a mob, is close enough that you wouldn't want to be Dr. Frankenstein if they were storming your castle.
"I wanna believe it's not too late for me to go thru a Grinch's fate. I wanna believe in a wonderland of Dancer & Prancer & Frosty the Snowman"
Yo backed down. The bartender said, “Well, maybe just one more little song, if you're not so loud. After all, 'tis the season..."She turned and went to the other end of the bar where I saw her dialing her cell phone.
The ex-Westies sat back down, but kept their eyes on us. Oh shits-apoppin, I hated being part of of an 'us'. I like being just me. Alone. Just me, myself, and my beer. Being part of this particular 'us' did not look like it was going to be the most fun way to spend my Christmas Eve. Even if I got free beer.
Louie completed the motion, pulling out a silver gu... no, a microphone out from inside his pinstriped suit. He plugged a wireless gizmo into the big babe’s keyboard like it was something he’d done many times before.
D’Oliya started playing. HiTone made bass bum-bum noises. Molly shook her bracelet like it was a tambourine. Vinnie got out a harmonica.
Louis sang a song I'd never heard before. Not a rip-off, not a parody.
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Louie ended the song with a tear running down his cheek.The others look proud. People in the bar applauded. Even the Sick Mick and the ex-Westies who niney seconds earlier, were ready to pound him into yellow snow.
The song made me think. I wasn't a believer in anything, but survival, which mostly meant the next beer. I didn't believe in religion, humanity, the Christmas spirit, or even the Easter Bunny who I only said I believed in to impress Molly. For the first time in a long time I thought, maybe it would be good to believe. Maybe, if there were something to believe in that would get me free beer.
Maybe these folks were for real — in some kind of unreal way. And maybe whatever they were here for wasn't so bad after all. Or maybe bad in a good way? Or good in a bad way? I stopped trying to think. Thinking only makes me want to drink.
Dandy the Manager had walked in the front door while Louie was singing. He had come over to our table in the back. "Nice song" He went on to to tell 'us' that there was no singing allowed.
“Cabaret Laws” he said.
He did not get any cooperative looks from "us".“And I’m sorry, but no smoking of tobacco, grass or opium.”
I looked at Dandy with hope. Maybe if we were ejected, I’d be saved from finding out if these were good bad buys or bad good guys. I closed my old mac powerbook, ready to make my exit. Then I stopped and reconsidered — after looking at Molly who was looking at me looking at her.
“Take it somewhere else.” said Dandy.
Vinnie acted incredulous, “You are 86ing us? Us?”
Vinnie and HiTone got up and moved toward Dandy. HiTone said, “We don’t get 86d. Ever.” He opened his coat slightly, and reached for his weedwacker.
Dandy replied, “Well there’s always a first… “
Louie interrupted, “We are the 86ers.”
I believed him. I hoped Dandy did, too. I didn’t want to be anywhere near if he didn’t, but I was trapped in the booth.
I saw Molly reach into her boot. D'Oliya reached through the slit in skirt to pull out what looked like Ninja throwing stars.
The Sick Mick and boys watched, but did not interfere. They'd kick butt for Yo or the day barmaids, but they figured Dandy could take of himself. And if he couldn't, they didn't give a flying firetruck.
I mouthed the word, “G-U-N-S” because I didn't think "WEEDWACKER" or "NINJA THROWNG STARS" would make it across the no-sound barrier.
Dandy didn’t seem to very good at lip reading. Oh, shit-on-a-snowman!
I seemed to have been thinking 'Oh, shit' in various permutations a lot in the last few minutes, which made me think 'Oh, shit' about constantly thinking 'Oh, shit .
Oh, shit.
Next: Backdoored For Christmas
