Dick

Dick Henry walked inside Duffy's the very picture of “The Chosen One. Like he owned the place.

Which he did.

On paper.

We were at the bar-- no big surprise-- and Tommy saw him coming.
Gave us the nod. All three of us turned our backs and faced forward.

He sat down at the bar, dead center. Stared straight ahead.

He was five stools away and none of us looked his way.

Dick Henry said, “Blow me.”

I said, “Oh! Look who's here!”

“I did nothing wrong,” Dick said.

We looked straight ahead and didn't reply. Then, one after another, each of us took long sips from nearly empty pint glasses of lukewarm beer.

Our silence continued.

“I got lucky,” Dick said.

We pretended to stare straight ahead at the TV, but really the three of us were trading sideways glances.

Ernie came over with his rag. Stared at his boss with a scowl on his face. Turned and went back down the bar.

“Jesus!” Dick said as his bartender walked the other way.

“What's that make it? Six in a row?” I asked loudly. “I'm not really a numbers guy,” I said more loudly. “But I think that might have been number six!”

“No one wins six football pools in a row!” Tommy said.

“It's like a bad dream,” Mike said.

“A night-mare,” I said.

“Hey Ernie!” Dick called down the bar. “Buy these guys a drink.”

“That's the spirit,” I said.

“Now we're talking,” Tommy said.

“Nice job, Dick. You're like a well oiled bettingmachine!” Tommy said as Ernie came over with our beers.

287 Words-