Man Walks into a Bar

I`m cheating and posting a short story. So sue me. But don`t literally because I don`t have money.

A man walks into a bar. Sounds terribly clichéd, but bear with this. A man walks into a bar. A big bull of a man, the kind of shoulders that made football coaches excited, and the kind of muscles that made people question his intelligence. This man walks into a bar. Now, if this was his usual watering hole there wouldn’t have been any notice, maybe a hello, but this wasn’t his usual watering hole. This man wasn’t from around these parts and his entrance caused quite a stir. A lot of suspicious glances were thrown his way as he slowly ambled up to the bar and ordered a drink.

                “What’s your best scotch?” The man who walked into the bar asked.

                The bartender looked thrown for a moment, this was a beer town and not many people even knew what scotch was. “Uh, um. Well, I think I gots a bottle a Grant’s down here. That’s bout all I gots.”

                The man who walked into the bar stared hard into the bartender’s eye, a hard glint dulling the rest of his eyes. “Grant’s? Damn. I’ll have…” He paused when he noticed the lack of draft. “I’ll have a Corona. I guess. With extra lime.” The man who walked into the bar swiveled on his stool until he was facing the main floor, he leaned his shoulders comfortably on the bar and took a quick smell of the place. The bar was sparsely populated for a Friday night; a group of friends playing at one of the three tables, some sorority girls getting drunk to forget their fathers, and some middle aged men dressed way too young, forgetting their age. A typical bar filled with the typical people. All of whom continued to force causal looks at the man who walked into the bar.

                A cough. “Um, pardon, we’re outta limes, so I put some lemon slices inta yer beer instead. Hope that’s alright.” The bartender left the now soiled beer on the bar and walked away.

                The man who walked into the bar turned and stared at his ruined beer, bright flashes of yellow floating in amongst the amber, mocking him. He hefted it and forced a swallow. Tasted like beer. Good enough. “Hey, son, what’s the story of this town? Where is everybody?” When the bartender looked at him in confusion he continued, “yeah, you. This place should be crawling, or at least have some half decent scotch. What’s the story?”

                The bartender, who looked barely old enough to be drinking, came back. “Sir, yer not from around here, so I’m guessin’ ya don’t know what’s been happenin’. There’s been what the police are callin’ a spree of murders. Twelve people been killed this past month here. The police been draggin’ us all in ta ask us questions and stuff. The entire towns been asked the same things. And we all been ruled out as what ya call suspects. Kinda hard ta have good times when ya don’t know where the killer is. Or who.”

                The man who walked into the bar was watching the universe be born, die, and be reborn, as he looked into his beer. “Guess that would explain all the glances folks been giving me. Just my luck, ride into a town in the midst of a terror. How long since the last murder?”

The bartender looked around nervously, as if afraid that answering would jinx everything, “Been three days, sir. That’s been the pattern. Three days in between killin’s. Yes sir, the looks are probably because you ain’t from here. We all know we ain’t the killer, but we don’t know you.”

The man who walked into the bar downed the last of his beer. “That is true. You don’t know me. Got no reason to trust me, as well you shouldn’t. Damn shame about the lack of a crowd tonight. Didn’t think my brothers would’ve all came through the same town.”

The bartender began hiccupping, a sure sign of his nervousness. “What are you trynna say here? You the killer?”

The man who walked into the bar smiled, “No, no, my good man. My brothers have been the killers here, I’ve only just arrived. Really a shame about your scotch collection. Put me a right terrible mood.” The man who walked into a bar reached up and casually killed the bartender. And then, equally as casual, killed the rest of people in the building.

A man walks into a bar.