TheUnsurprised

The front door swung open.

The man that came in came in alone. His name was Harry. The eight people at the bar who saw Harry come in seemed to not see him at all.

Harry was not surprised in the very least that not one solitary dirt-bag in this little shit-hole of a turd-stand made eye-contact with him.

It was not easy to surprise Harry, and nobody wanted to.

He had not but sat down in his usual stool that his usual drink was put in front of him.

This all happened, then the front door swung open again.

Three men came in. Two were carrying the one in the middle who was moaning and groaning and sounding like a man who needed help to either a hospital or a bar.

Harry was not in the least surprised he chose a bar.

The man began speaking to his friends while he downed a Jack neat. His friends leaned in closer.

A slight twitch of a facial muscle from Harry and the juke-box was turned off.

“…so this lady keeps watching me, thinks I'm some guy named Louis Felix. I go out to the car, she fallas. I’m sayin’ look, hun! I don’t know no Louie Felix! Capice? You must have me confused with someone else. No, no— she says and starts hanging on to me…”

Harry sighed, finished his drink, and walked toward the door. Just before he got to the door the man was saying, "... so this old bag's got my sweat pants down around my ankles and she's grabbing for my cazzone, says she could recognize Louis' pud anywhere, and so there she is pullin' on my pepperoni mozzarella cazzone--"

Harry ducked into the conversation. He said, "Just like he's pulling on yours!"

Then he walked out. The front door swung shut.

It was not easy to pull Harry’s pepperoni mozzarella cazzone.

-263 Words