A Man Walks Into A Bar...

Just something i dreamed up...

He grabs a table in the very back, the most secluded table in the room. He sits and thinks, reflecting on the day, and wondering whether or not anyone he knows comes to this bar.

                But he doubts it…. This isn’t their kind of bar.

Presently there came a waitress somewhat louder than before. She had fine, blonde hair, and breasts that would stop your heart (and possibly several lines of traffic). The man sits and stares for a while before speaking.

“I’ll have a couple of them,” he said, gesturing towards her breasts with a husky voice.

“I’m afraid those ain’t on the menu,” she said, smiling despite the disgusting advance. “But we have food and drinks. Whether or not any of it’s good is a whole ‘nother conversation. What’ll you have?”

He debates for a moment.

“Just gimme something that’ll make me too drunk to drive,” he responds.

“I know just the thing,” she said as she starts to walk, “be right back, honeybun.”

She stalks off, leaving the man to think, although if she truly does know just the thing, he won’t be thinking for long.

The first drink comes.

And goes.

Then another.

And a third.

                Light starts to swirl around in his eyes. Sound begins to fade in and out, leaving him in a state of numb chaos, so numb he doesn’t even notice the door open, doesn’t see the three men walking towards him in the most expensive of suits, doesn’t hear the light tap-tap-tapping of their shiny black shoes… he remains in his ecstasy, ignorant of the world around him.

He pulls out his wallet and begins to open, preparing to pay and leave, when the three men stop in front of him.

“You knew this would happen, muchacho,” the man in the middle said in a thick Mexican accent.

And the last thing the man saw clearly, while everything else was obscured with the influence of drink, was the barrel of a pistol.

The End

1 comment about this story Feed