It was rubber

December 16, 2012


Occasionally we looked over at him. The old drunk, sitting alone, was chuckling. Enjoying the greatest joke he’d ever heard. And it creeped us out.

And then we started talking.

I said that there was always hope.

Eddy shook his head. “We’re fucked.”

Vic just sat there and drank his beer. And listened. And wondered what the hell the drunk was chuckling about.

And then it happened.

The drunk gave out a terrible cry. We looked over. There was the drunk’s dinner laying on the table in front of him. Vic almost barfed himself. The waiter came over to see what the problem was.

“Jesus, Billy. Why’d you have…” the waiter began. But was stopped by the drunk’s hysterical laughter.

The drunk reached over and picked up his barf. It was rubber. A trick.

The waiter shook his head and walked off. The drunk continued to laugh. He put the rubber barf in his pocket.

“Anyone want to get a bite to eat?” I asked.

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