He appeared to be very shy and kept looking around nervously. He must not have noticed me watching him, because after a couple more quick peeks around and when he was sure nobody was looking, he took off his hat and as quick as lighting threw it in the trash.
After doing this he seemed a lot more relaxed and ordered a beer. Very interesting too was his way of drinking beer. He’d sip it, sort of like hot tea and after every third sip he’d wipe his mouth with a white handkerchief. He continued drinking and peeping around the bar, every now and then he would look over towards the trash can and start getting visibly nervous again. He especially got agitated when Marco, the second shift bartender, after putting on his apron, saw the green hat in the trash, picked it up and started waving it in the air, loudly saying, "Anybody lose a hat!"
Everyone at the bar looked up from their drinks and cigarettes, looked at the hat and grunted, "No." The sipping man with the white hanky said nothing and lowered his head as if he was ashamed.
Then George, a burly patron, says, "Hey," pointing toward the slumped over man, "that guy came in here wearing a hat."
Marco looked at the man and said, "Is this your hat buddy?"
I saw him shake his head no, as did George, who screamed, "That’s a lie . . . ," and then he looked at me, George knowing that I usually know what’s up said, "Hey Jane, wasn’t he wearing a HAT!"
I found myself saying, "No, not that I know of."
"Ah, what do you know." He said as he walked over to the man. "I know for a fact that he came in here wearing a hat."
The man straightened himself up a bit and said, "I’m sorry sir but I’m afraid you are mistaken."
Nobody at the Monkey Shine says Sir or I’m afraid you are mistaken, that kind of language infuriated George, who hated fancy talking men and once put a man in the hospital for fancy talk.
Standing over the man George looked down at the man’s head. "Look Jane, see how his hair is stuck down, that only happens when you wear a hat."
I couldn’t help myself, I looked at the man’s hair, which was indeed matted.
"That’s just how his hair grows George." I said.
George borrowed a flashlight from Marco, to study the man’s hair patterns more closely. The man sat there rather calmly considering how closely George was now inspecting his head.
The entire time while I was telling George to forget the whole thing, I was becoming more and more interested in the man’s reasons for throwing away the hat and then not owning up to it. A part of me, in spite of it all happening right in front of my eyes, wanted to believe that it wasn’t his hat after all.
"Where are you from?" George asked shining the flashlight directly into the man’s eyes, "I haven’t seen you around town."
"What is this?" I said yanking the flashlight out of George’s hand, "Some kind of Spanish Inquisition!"
"What Jane, you have a thing going with this guy? Mind your own business." George huffed.
"I’ll make a deal with you George, I’ll mind my beeswax if you mind yours. He didn’t come in wearing a hat. Maybe you saw some kind of shadow that looked like a hat." "So . . . ," I said, speaking in my most motherly voice and putting my arm around George, "why don’t you go back to your stool and I’ll buy you a beer."
Grumbling and snarling at the man George went back to his stool. I returned to mine as well and I was surprised to see the man, instead of leaving, order another beer.
Oddly he didn’t look up or acknowledge my assistance. Perhaps he did not realize that George could and would have broken him in half like a bread stick were it not for my intervention.
For the next hour the man just continued sipping his beer and wiping his mouth with his hanky after every third sip. Meanwhile, the hat lay like an accusation on the bar.
Now there is just so long that any stranger can remain interesting unless they take out a gun or start handing out money, there just isn’t anything to hold the attention span. Though he wasn’t bad looking he was no movie star. Besides, not once, since the time he walked in, had he made eye contact, let alone flirt with me. Most men, if I may be bold, at least try to make a move on me and I must confess there being none what-so-ever of this behavior from him, turned me off.
Turned off as I was, I purposely diverted my eyes and wondered why I defended him. This strange man must be arrogant or stupid not to notice (if I do say so myself) my fine form and features.
Usually when I look away, men, not having to risk rejection or cold eyes let their eyes linger. Not so with this man, who, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed once again looking around, nervously playing with his handkerchief.
Shortly, I saw him put down his beer and suddenly, fast as a rattlesnake, grab his hat and run out the door.
as this sneaky man
was just the type to be
part of the Testing
Last night at the Monkey Shine Bar and Grill a man I never saw before sat down on a stool across from meHaving never seen him before I snapped a picture of him. He was wearing a green hat, like in old movies. Most men at the Monkey Shine don’t wear deodorant let alone Hollywood type hats. I must say that I was intrigued and could not help but stare. I sat there for sometime watching.Unlike the old days TVS were everywhere.I had previously gone out to bars to get away from tv. It’s not like he was absolutely fascinating or anything but he was different.I remembered what I had thought and sent a Tweet about "what's the idea with tvs suddenly being all over the place
He appeared to be very shy and kept looking around nervously.I noticed that the facial recognition equipment near the Budweiser sign was lit He must not have noticed me watching him, because after a couple more quick peeks around and when he was sure nobody was looking, he took off his hat and as quick as lighting threw it in the trash.
After doing this he seemed a lot more relaxed and ordered a beer. Very interesting too was his way of drinking beer. He’d sip it, sort of like hot tea and after every third sip he’d wipe his mouth with a white handkerchief. He continued drinking and peeping around the bar, every now and then he would look over towards the trash can and start getting visibly nervous again. He especially got agitated when Marco, the second shift bartender, after putting on his apron, saw the green hat in the trash, picked it up and started waving it in the air, loudly saying, "Anybody lose a hat!"
Everyone at the bar looked up from their drinks and cigarettes, looked at the hat and grunted, "No." The sipping man with the white hanky said nothing and lowered his head as if he was ashamed.
Then George, a burly patron, says, "Hey," pointing toward the slumped over man, "that guy came in here wearing a hat."
Marco looked at the man and said, "Is this your hat buddy?"
I saw him shake his head no, as did George, who screamed, "That’s a lie . . . ," and then he looked at me, George knowing that I usually know what’s up said, "Hey Jane, wasn’t he wearing a HAT!"
I found myself saying, "No, not that I know of."
"Ah, what do you know." He said as he walked over to the man. "I know for a fact that he came in here wearing a hat."
The man straightened himself up a bit and said, "I’m sorry sir but I’m afraid you are mistaken."
Nobody at the Monkey Shine says Sir or I’m afraid you are mistaken, that kind of language infuriated George, who hated fancy talking men and once put a man in the hospital for fancy talk.
Standing over the man George looked down at the man’s head. "Look Jane, see how his hair is stuck down, that only happens when you wear a hat."
I couldn’t help myself, I looked at the man’s hair, which was indeed matted.
"That’s just how his hair grows George." I said.
George borrowed a flashlight from Marco, to study the man’s hair patterns more closely. The man sat there rather calmly considering how closely George was now inspecting his head.
The entire time while I was telling George to forget the whole thing, I was becoming more and more interested in the man’s reasons for throwing away the hat and then not owning up to it. A part of me, in spite of it all happening right in front of my eyes, wanted to believe that it wasn’t his hat after all.
"Where are you from?" George asked shining the flashlight directly into the man’s eyes, "I haven’t seen you around town."
"What is this?" I said yanking the flashlight out of George’s hand, "Some kind of Spanish Inquisition!"
"What Jane, you have a thing going with this guy? Mind your own business." George huffed.
"I’ll make a deal with you George, I’ll mind my beeswax if you mind yours. He didn’t come in wearing a hat. Maybe you saw some kind of shadow that looked like a hat." "So . . . ," I said, speaking in my most motherly voice and putting my arm around George, "why don’t you go back to your stool and I’ll buy you a beer."
Grumbling and snarling at the man George went back to his stool. I returned to mine as well and I was surprised to see the man, instead of leaving, order another beer.
Oddly he didn’t look up or acknowledge my assistance. Perhaps he did not realize that George could and would have broken him in half like a bread stick were it not for my intervention.
For the next hour the man just continued sipping his beer and wiping his mouth with his hanky after every third sip. Meanwhile, the hat lay like an accusation on the bar.
Now there is just so long that any stranger can remain interesting unless they take out a gun or start handing out money, there just isn’t anything to hold the attention span. Though he wasn’t bad looking he was no movie star. Besides, not once, since the time he walked in, had he made eye contact, let alone flirt with me. Most men, if I may be bold, at least try to make a move on me and I must confess there being none what-so-ever of this behavior from him, turned me off.
Turned off as I was, I purposely diverted my eyes and wondered why I defended him. This strange man must be arrogant or stupid not to notice (if I do say so myself) my fine form and features.
Usually when I look away, men, not having to risk rejection or cold eyes let their eyes linger. Not so with this man, who, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed once again looking around, nervously playing with his handkerchief.
Shortly, I saw him put down his beer and suddenly, fast as a rattlesnake, grab his hat and run out the door.
I called Marie
my mentorI called Marie
as this sneaky man
was just the type to be
part of the Testing
No comments:
Post a Comment