The Man in the Bar

    He sauntered over as someone who had no business here.  His clothes were worn and tattered, with holes scattered throughout like Swiss cheese, except I wasn’t hankering for ham sandwiches. 
   
    Ancient rattlesnake leather boots made menacing squeaks that sang alongside choruses of creaking, wooden floorboards making melodies only deaf folks could bear.  Coughing up both lungs, this man sat, quite heavily, on a half broken stool nearby.  My nose became flooded by noxious odors unlike any to befall me before. 

    Regretfully, consciousness sought escape from gastly gases.

    Splat!  Face meets warm, gooey pie. 

    Loud, thunderous laughter erupts throughout the bar.