The cigar smoke hung heavy in the air from the card game in the corner. The jukebox crackled that same old shitty country song it always has. Old Frank was wiping down the bar and shot me a nod as we walked in. Frankie’s Tavern isn’t the kind of place you just wander into for a cold one. If you’re not from around here, it’s just a matter of time before you’re sniffed out and most likely knocked out. We made our way to the back of the bar as usual.
“Around the world is around the world, dumb ass. Start at one, hit every number up to twenty. First one there wins.”
“Wins what, Jake?”
“A trip to Disneyland, you fucking half-wit. The winner, my stunned little friend, will get to do the driving. The loser gets the shovel.”
“But that ain’t even fair, Jake. I never played no darts before.” Bobby picks up a darts and starts to examine it. He walks over and stabs it onto the number one spot. “I don’t see the point? This is too easy. Pass me them other ones, I’ll fuckin win this right now.”
Jake picks up a dart and throws it at Bobby, sticking him right in the shoulder. “You throw them from here, genius.”
Wincing, he pulls the dart from his shoulder and walks back to Jake. “This still ain’t right, man. I’m the one that cut that rat fuck into little pieces and packed him all up. In my favorite suitcase, I might add. I don’t see how I should be the one diggin any holes.”
Jake steps right nose to nose with Bobby. “Shut the fuck up, and play the game. You keep runnin your mouth like that, and I’ll be diggin two holes out in them woods.”
© 2016, Travis Baribeau. All rights reserved.
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