shift?”
“As always,” I chuckled, “had a rough day of dealing with the dregs of society?”
He laughed at that. The Legacy was about as quiet a place as it came, especially during the day. With a location in the heart of the business district, it was mostly white collar beer drinkers during the day. At night it picked up a little, office workers like to have fun too, but a yelling match was about the worst I’d ever seen in my 3 months here.
“Oh I tell you, I’ve suffered the trials of the dammed I have!” he went on in mock theatrics. “The trials of the dammed! Oh the fights, the arguments, the very risk to life and limb!”
“That bad huh?” I snickered.
“Worse,” he sighed, “I think the big excitement came when someone spilled their beer today. Isn’t that right Doris?” he raised his voice at the last to attract the attention of the waitress, a rather nice springer spaniel, who was working her way through college on the tips.
“Oh give it a rest you,” she shook her head coming over to talk with us. “Quiet is good. The tips are great, the customers are decent. Even the night crowd is well behaved. Go work a fight bar if you want some excitement.”
“Hell no! I’m not that crazy...” he said and dropped his apron behind the register. “Well it’s all yours Jack.”
I nodded and put on my own apron and checked out the patrons at the bar and in the dozen booths, all regulars. “Have a good one Sam, see you round.”
Doris turned to me as he left, “I don’t hear you complaining about it being quiet in here.”
“Course not, I like it this way. Relaxing.” I smiled.
“Well I don’t know if I’d call it relaxing during the dinner rush.” She smiled back and returned to waiting her tables.
For the next several hours it was a fairly typical night, after the dinner rush the cook closed down the kitchen and headed home. Doris stayed till nine, it was a Wednesday so the crowd wasn’t that big. By ten it was pretty much the usual crowd, about fifteen people, all of whom I knew by name. I was cleaning glasses and popping the odd item in the microwave for whoever wanted a snack while listening to the present topic of conversation. They were talking firearms tonight, discussing the merits of different handguns mainly.
“I like the Glocks” said Harvey , a slightly hyper skunk. “They’re just so cool, with all that plastic and alloy. They’re just neat.”
“I don’t know, I think they’re over rated. I prefer the Smith and Wesson’s. Less jamming with a revolver.”
That was Sal, a Labrador who worked in the securities trade. The rest all weighted in with their different opinions. Bill, the Rottwieller liked Ruger blackhawks. Jeff and George, two cougars who I suspected were rather familiar both sided with Harvey , getting specific by voicing their round of choice, 9mm. Jill, Mike and Nick really didn’t seem to be taking much of a side on anything yet. I noticed their mugs were empty and gave them each a refill. That got them back in the conversation shortly.
“What about you Jack?” Asked Harvey , he was usually the one who dragged me into these things. I think it took him about a month to realize I wasn’t going to kill him, after that he had a tendency to hang on to me at times. I guess he just had a fascination with panthers.
“What about me Harvey?” I asked grinning.
He looked exasperated. “What gun do you prefer? You seem to always have an opinion on things.”
I laughed, “Well having an opinion is a bartender's job you know.”
“Only you seem to enjoy that part more then most....” Added Nick, his silver foxtail flicking against Jill’s redder one.
“Guilty as charged,” I grinned, I enjoyed these inane conversations. “Well, for handguns, I guess it all depends on what you’re gonna use it for.”
“In general,” said Harvey , “just in general, what do you like.”
“Well in general I guess I’d just have to go with the colt
“As always,” I chuckled, “had a rough day of dealing with the dregs of society?”
He laughed at that. The Legacy was about as quiet a place as it came, especially during the day. With a location in the heart of the business district, it was mostly white collar beer drinkers during the day. At night it picked up a little, office workers like to have fun too, but a yelling match was about the worst I’d ever seen in my 3 months here.
“Oh I tell you, I’ve suffered the trials of the dammed I have!” he went on in mock theatrics. “The trials of the dammed! Oh the fights, the arguments, the very risk to life and limb!”
“That bad huh?” I snickered.
“Worse,” he sighed, “I think the big excitement came when someone spilled their beer today. Isn’t that right Doris?” he raised his voice at the last to attract the attention of the waitress, a rather nice springer spaniel, who was working her way through college on the tips.
“Oh give it a rest you,” she shook her head coming over to talk with us. “Quiet is good. The tips are great, the customers are decent. Even the night crowd is well behaved. Go work a fight bar if you want some excitement.”
“Hell no! I’m not that crazy...” he said and dropped his apron behind the register. “Well it’s all yours Jack.”
I nodded and put on my own apron and checked out the patrons at the bar and in the dozen booths, all regulars. “Have a good one Sam, see you round.”
Doris turned to me as he left, “I don’t hear you complaining about it being quiet in here.”
“Course not, I like it this way. Relaxing.” I smiled.
“Well I don’t know if I’d call it relaxing during the dinner rush.” She smiled back and returned to waiting her tables.
For the next several hours it was a fairly typical night, after the dinner rush the cook closed down the kitchen and headed home. Doris stayed till nine, it was a Wednesday so the crowd wasn’t that big. By ten it was pretty much the usual crowd, about fifteen people, all of whom I knew by name. I was cleaning glasses and popping the odd item in the microwave for whoever wanted a snack while listening to the present topic of conversation. They were talking firearms tonight, discussing the merits of different handguns mainly.
“I like the Glocks” said Harvey , a slightly hyper skunk. “They’re just so cool, with all that plastic and alloy. They’re just neat.”
“I don’t know, I think they’re over rated. I prefer the Smith and Wesson’s. Less jamming with a revolver.”
That was Sal, a Labrador who worked in the securities trade. The rest all weighted in with their different opinions. Bill, the Rottwieller liked Ruger blackhawks. Jeff and George, two cougars who I suspected were rather familiar both sided with Harvey , getting specific by voicing their round of choice, 9mm. Jill, Mike and Nick really didn’t seem to be taking much of a side on anything yet. I noticed their mugs were empty and gave them each a refill. That got them back in the conversation shortly.
“What about you Jack?” Asked Harvey , he was usually the one who dragged me into these things. I think it took him about a month to realize I wasn’t going to kill him, after that he had a tendency to hang on to me at times. I guess he just had a fascination with panthers.
“What about me Harvey?” I asked grinning.
He looked exasperated. “What gun do you prefer? You seem to always have an opinion on things.”
I laughed, “Well having an opinion is a bartender's job you know.”
“Only you seem to enjoy that part more then most....” Added Nick, his silver foxtail flicking against Jill’s redder one.
“Guilty as charged,” I grinned, I enjoyed these inane conversations. “Well, for handguns, I guess it all depends on what you’re gonna use it for.”
“In general,” said Harvey , “just in general, what do you like.”
“Well in general I guess I’d just have to go with the colt
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