The Stand-Up

The sunburned man had been sitting there for three hours. Lenny remembered him from last night with the pretty wife and his two younger brothers. They ate dinner. They seemed the vary picture of a healthy family on vacation. Good tippers too.

The man with the sunburn seemed to be speaking mainly to his own drink. Dick Jensen, one stool over, appeared to be listening into the conversation as an outsider.

Lenny had seen hundreds of tourists like this guy. Faces swollen. They fall asleep in the sun. Or they come down with strange-ass allergies, one way or another, their faces swell-up like big red balloons. They fight with their wives. They end up back here. Alone. He wasn't causing any trouble but Lenny was going to keep an eye on him just the same. It's what good bartenders do and Lenny was good.

He thought maybe he could cheer this guy up. Work some magic. Do a little bartender-softshoe. Hell, when he first started working here Lenny was often told he should be a stand-up comic. Now, years later, he was told that he could have been a stand-up comic. Sometimes he thought maybe they were right. He wondered what if...

He crabbed sideways closer to the two men, wiping down the bar as he approached.

“... found them right in the next tent...” the man said heavily.

“No!” Dick said, sounding astonished.

“Yep...”

“Both brothers and your wife?”

“Yep...”

"S'mores? You're serious?"

"Yep..."

"No!" Dick said again.

Lenny had been all set to tell his joke about the horse with the long face, but decided he'd wait. He'd hit him later with his one about the gay lawyer.

You couldn't not laugh at his one about the gay lawyer. Timing, in this crazy business, was absolutely everything.

-300 Words-