Sunday afternoon at the Watering Hole sees a vast majority of customers getting the last buzz before having to go to work on Monday. The bartender sees tempers shorter on Sunday afternoons than on any other day of the week. The bartender can expect at least one fight to break out.
On any Sunday afternoon, and a couple of other afternoons, Gina will sit at the end of the bar after it makes a sharp right turn. Leaving two seats for whoever would feel like listening to her stories.
Everyone knew Gina. Gina knew everyone. No one really knew Gina’s age. Based on her stories and wrinkles, the regulars guessed she was at least seventy.
This one Sunday afternoon, a middle-aged stranger strutted into the bar. His first mistake was sitting next to Gina. As Gina told the stranger a couple of her stories, he seemed interested. The bartender and everyone else had their eyes fixed on the football game playing on TV.
The regular customers had the habit of leaving their wallets and or money on the counter next to their drinks.
After Gina’s third story, she went to the restroom to relieve herself. When she came back, Gina stared at the stranger and said, “Give me back my wallet.”
The stranger put up his hands. “What wallet?”
“I know you took it. I had it sitting right here next to my drink.”
“You’re crazy. Why would I want to take your ugly wallet?”
“My wallet was sitting right here before I went to the restroom. When I came back, it was gone. You have been sitting there the whole time.”
“You’re drunk, old lady, go home.”
Gina Carlson pulled out of her purse a small nine-millimeter revolver with a pink handle and set in on the counter. She had the revolver pointing toward the stranger. Her hand rested on it.
The stranger’s eyes became fixed upon that little revolver under Gina’s hand. “I said give me my wallet.”
The bartender, Brad, seeing Gina had pulled her gun, ran over and put his hand on top of Gina’s. He looked at Gina. “What’s going on?”
“This son of a bitch stole my wallet. I left it here on the bar before going to the restroom. When I came back, it was gone.”
“The old bitch is crazy.” The stranger said. “She is drunk and can’t keep track of her stuff.”
Brad knew once Gina pulled her gun, she would not back down. Keeping his hand on top of Gina’s, he looked at the stranger. “Mister, if I lift my hand off of Gina’s, she will definitely shoot you. She’s killed men for a whole lot less. I would advise you to give her, her wallet back with the money she had inside.”
The stranger’s right hand crept around to his back pocket and pulled the wallet. “I just wanted to take it as payment for listening to the old bitty’s stories.” He set the wallet next to Gina’s glass.
“Brad, take your hand off of mine,” Gina demanded.
“Now, Gina. Calm down. I don’t want to shut the bar down and have to clean up the mess after the police leave.”
After seeing the look on Gina’s face, Brad knew the best thing for the stranger was for him to leave. That’s why Brad stared at the stranger, a hard stare. “You have until the count of three to get out of here. I don’t want to ever see you in here again.”
“But, but…”
“One, two.”
“I’m gone.” The stranger jumped out of his seat and ran out the door. He left his cigarettes and his unfinished drink.
Brad lifted his hand off of Gina’s. “You shouldn’t be carrying that gun in your purse when you are drinking.”
She smiled. “I didn’t intend on using it. You have to admit that just by showing it does go a long way in persuading guys like him.”
