A typical summer night. The bar is heating up. The bartender is rushing around behind the bar trying to keep up with drink orders. Two men are arguing. One is very drunk.
“He sez I cannae have a drink. That bah-bah-bartender o’er there.”
The drunk man points his finger.
“Sez I’m drr-rr-runk, he sez.”
“I see what he means all right.”
“Mind your own damn business.”
“Come on man, yer all boozed up.”
“Oh, go to hell!”
“Hey, where you goin’?”
“I gotta ‘ave a drink, fuh-fuh-furst.”
“Oh Christ, here we go again.
“Sez I’m drr-rr-runk, he sez. And I sez, sonny, I been drinkin’ in this here bar before you were born.”
“This bar wasn’t here before he was born.”
“Now lo-lo-look here, if you weren’t such a blockhead I’d knock you silly.”
“Like hell you say.”
The bartender looks their way.
“You guys go on home now. Get outta here or I’m calling the cops.”
The drunk doesn’t hear. He puts up his fists like he’s going to fight.
“Put those fists down ‘less you wanna be bloody slogged.”
“Oh yea, ‘oo sez?”
The bartender’s rattled. He picks up the phone.
“Now look here. I’m gonna ring up the cops right now unless you leave.”
The sober one looks at the bartender then back at his drunk friend.
“You see with what little wisdom this world is governed? Come on, let’s go downstairs. This dump’s a bore.”
The sober one pulls the drunk down the stairs to the restaurant. The bartender calls down to the hostess to explain the situation.
“I think you should call the cops. Those guys are trouble.”
“You call’em, I’ve got people coming out of my ears looking for tables.”
The bartender makes the call.
The drunk staggers into the coffee shop with his friend and they sit at the counter. A waitress arrives to take their order.
“Les ‘ave a drink first.”
The sober man mumbles: “why not, why not.”
The waitress ignores them. She helps another customer.
“He sez you’re drunk, he sez. And I sez, sonny, I been drinkin’ in this here bar before you were born.”
The drunk man giggles then starts to laugh wildly. He breaks out in a fit of coughing. The other one wonders if his friend will die laughing.
“As a matter of fa-fa-fact, I’m gonna ‘ave a drink right now. Hey miss, gimme a drink!”
The waitress avoids them. The other customers look at the two men and whisper to each other. A little boy walks over to get a closer look at the two men.
“What are ya doin’ you little squirt! Stop lookin’ at me,” says the drunk.
“Skedaddle on out of here kid. Hurry up before my friend gets upset. He’s mean when he’s upset.”
The mother grabs the boy by his collar and pulls him back to their table.
“He sez you’re drunk, he sez and I sez, sonny …”
“Oh shut up!”
“Well, that’s what the bastard sez.”
“Can you guys cool it? There’s kids in here. This is a family place.”
The sheriff walks in the front door. The hostess winks in the direction of the two men.
“There’s no need to wink like that,” says the sober one. “He just drinks enough to calm the nerves.”
“They’re always quarrelling, those guys,” says the sheriff to the hostess. He walks toward the two men.
“How you two boys doin’ tonight?”
“It’s a dog’s life,” mumbles the drunk.
“You got that right,” says the other.
The drunk gets up and tries to walk toward to the door, stumbles, puts out his hand to catch himself and knocks over the silverware stand. Forks and knives and spoons clang about and fall to the floor.
“Why … can’t you walk?” says the sheriff with a smile.
“Certainly I can walk,” says the drunk. He staggers to the door.
“There we go boys. Let me help you to the patrol car. I’ll drive you home.”
“The he-he-hell you will sheriff. I’m drivin’ myself.”
“Not in that condition.”
“And what condition mi-mi-might that be?”
“You’re drunk, pal. Now let’s not argue about this.”
“He’s right. Let him drive us home,” says the other.
A crowd forms to watch the show.
“I’m NEVER drunk,” says the drunk.
“You’re a liar,” says his friend.
They put up their fists.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to hurt you. You’re drunk.”
“Yer the one’s gonna get hurt,” says the drunk. “You can bet your boots on it, sonny.”
The sheriff stands between them to break it up.
The drunk suddenly fires his fist like a cannon at the sheriff who leans out of the way. The fist strikes the drunk’s friend right between the eyes and knocks him out cold.
The drunk looks at the sheriff.
“Sundayed!” said the sheriff. Your friend just got sundayed.”
The drunk doubles over in laughter. “You can bet your boots on it, sonny.”
The hostess douses the passed-out man with cold water. He comes to. The sheriff helps both men into the patrol car.
“For Jesus sake, why’d ya hit me so hard?”
“Jesus? Yer asking’ for Jesus?” The drunk gets a faraway look. “Jesus was a drinking man, wan’t he, at the Last Supper anyway.”
Down the street goes the patrol car with the two men inside. The drunk sings at the top of his lungs.
“Matthew, Mark, Luke and John went to bed with their trousers on!”
“Sez I’m drunk, he sez. And I sez, sonny, I been drinkin’ in this here bar before you was born.
“This is the way the disciples run
Peter, Andrew, James and John.
Phillip and Bartholomew
Thomas next and Matthew, too.
James the less and Judas the greater
Simon the zealot and Judas the traitor.”
[NOTE: Sundayed is a slang term one meaning of which is slamming into a Sunday driver that unexpectedly stops suddenly in front of you.]
As a former bartender at the old Seagull, it could be sort of true. Very funny.
If that happened, Marlene would come by and make these two men feel like chastised little boys, and they’d be whimpering home, bye and bye. I only had to call her once- and it was worth seeing her work!