Chapter 12 - Peg Leg Pete's Bar and Grill

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 12 Whirlwind Christmas Season

“Everybody ready for Christmas,” Honey Bunny asked as the coots all readied to down their first for happy hour?
There was a chorus of “no’s” after everyone finished their first of the afternoon.
“You probably are and don’t know it,” Honey Bunny continued. “The women do all the shopping and readying anyway,” she jibed.
“I don’t have a woman,” Joe commented, “will you do my shopping for me?”
“Only if I can buy a present for myself.”
“You’re on! See me after we’re done here.”
“What is this,” Pelly grumbled, “a two person conversation?”
“Anyway,” Jerry cut in, “have you all been taking advantage of all the activities of the past few weeks?”
This question brought a nodding of heads and a chorus of “wouldn’t miss them for the world.”
“One of the great things about the Island,” Al commented, “is there’s three cities so there’s three times the events.”
“You’re right,” Joe said. “Three cities, three governments, never agreeing on anything.”
“Keeps the developers from totally destroying the Island,” Jerry said sourly.
“Whole different subject,” Honey Bunny brought the happy hour conversation back on track. By the way, my glass is empty.”
She hardly had the words out of her mouth when Kelli arrived with a tray of fresh ones.
“You look great this afternoon,” Joe commented.
“Thank you, Joe. You know flattery will get you everywhere.”
“How about we get together later?”
“You haven’t flattered me that much yet,” Kelli shook her booty enticingly as she walked to the other end of the bar to serve customers there.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Joe finished off.
“Which open house did you like best,” Honey Bunny continued.
“I liked the Holmes Beach bash the best,” Al said.
“Why,” Honey Bunny bored in.
“First, they are all together. Anna Maria City merchants are all spread out from Gulf Drive through Pine to the Anna Maria Pier. My feet can’t take the long hike anymore.”
“Bridge Street is all together, too,” Jerry commented, “unless you walked all the way out on the pier to see the Lighted Boat Parade.”
“Yeah,” Al chimed in, “but they had almost everything raffled off but nothing was free.”
“But,” Jerry pointed out, “most of the proceeds were donated to charities.”
“I’m an old retired senior citizen,” Al rejoined, “I like free. Holmes Drive merchants all had spreads and punch or wine,”
“Personally,” Honey Bunny commented, “I like J and J Printing’s hot mulled rum and open fire. That was so warm and friendly. All it lacked was a window to look out on the snow.”
“Of course,” Joe said snidely, “there wasn’t any house, any window or any snow.”
“Details,” Honey Bunny snorted, “can’t you use your imagination?”
“Imagination is all I have left,” Joe snapped back, as he ogled Kelli as she came with another round.
“I enjoy Rudy’s sub shop up on Gulf Drive,” Jerry noted. “They always serve pieces of sub sandwiches. It was so good, I ordered a whole one to take home.”
“There was one thing I thought odd,” Pelly stated. “Rotten Ralph’s was serving BBQ in the Sun Plaza in Anna Maria City. Then they didn’t have anything on Bridge Street where the restaurant is located.”
“I noticed that. too,” Honey Bunny said. ”I guess you were supposed to order drinks or a meal.”
“I really enjoyed the lighted boat parade,” Pelly stated.
“Took an awful long time to get from Longboat Key to Cortez though,” Jerry noted.
“Did you have any important engagements you had to make,” Joe laughed. “I enjoyed the land parade as well. I have enough beads and candy to last me until the next parade.”
“Only problem,” Jerry said, “is the poor aim of the people throwing the candy and beads. I can’t bend over any more.”
“Get a grabber,” Joe said, “that’s what I do.”
“My problem with all the parades except the St. Patrick’s Day parade,” Honey Bunny chimed in, “is there’s never any bands.”
“That’s because the St. Patrick’s parade is short. All the others run the full length of the Island. The kids in a marching band would wear out with all the walking.”
“Put them on a float,” Honey Bunny snorted, “or just have small bands or singles. I’ll bet Mike Sales would be only too happy to be in a parade. More publicity for him; more entertainment of us.”
“Why don’t you suggest it to him next Friday when you go to listen to him at the Manatee Public Beach?”
“Just might do it,” Honey Bunny noted.
Kelli arrived with another round.
“This is the last for me,” Pelly stated, “I have to go home and get dinner started.”
“You’re just a party pooper,” Honey Bunny teased, “Carolyn’s right in the other room playing Bingo. She doesn’t care if you have another.”
“You don’t know the wrath of a Cajun woman who doesn’t get something she wants when she wants it.”
“This is not a bad thing sometimes,” Joe leered.
“You’re right,” Pelly leered right back. “Night y’all!"

####

Chapter 11 - Peg Leg Pete's Bar and Grill

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 11 – I’ve been hacked

Honey Bunny was obviously unhappy and it showed.
What’s got you all upset, baby,” Joe asked solicitously?
Just then Kelli hustled over with the customary order of drinks. Honey Bunny shoved hers back. “Make mine a double. I need an attitude adjustment.”
Kelli hastened to comply; then she, too, asked what the matter was? “Did Spike hit you again?”
“Worse. Somebody hacked into my e-mail account and changed the password. Now I’ve lost by entire list and someone else has it. I can’t even get into my own list.”
None of the coots were very computer savvy. They’d seen computers go from room-sized to hand-held, of course. None of them were as knowledgeable about computers as most six year olds today.
“What do you mean by hacked,” Joe inquired. “I’ve hear of hacking. That’s a foul in basketball. I remember when Shaquille O’Neal was in his prime, Chicago used to employ a tactic they nicknamed Hack-a-Shaq.”
“Joe, come into the 21st century. Computer hacking is when someone discovers the password to your account and takes it over.”
“Why would someone do that,” Jerry wondered.
“To get your list and use it for their own purposes. Worst case, the person could get into your bank accounts,” Honey Bunny replied.
“In my case, the hacker sent an e-mail to my entire list saying I was marooned in Spain and asking for money so I could get back to the states. My list included friends, my bank, and, even, my dentist.”
“Did anyone send money,” Kelli asked.
“Not as far as I know. Most of my friends know I don’t like travel and am too poor to buy an airline ticket anyway.”
“Than what’s the problem,” Pelly inquired.
“I’ve lost all my e-mail addresses and all my photos. Now I have to set up a new e-mail account and start building a list all over again. Plus the hacker not only has my list but many other addresses which are included in e-mails which had been forwarded to me and others.”
“Is there a moral to this story,” Al asked.
“Yes, be sure to back up your e-mail list just as you would any other thing stored on your computer. And prosecute the hacker if you find out who he is."
They ordered another round.
“Well,” Jerry commented. “At least we started out our happy hour without talking about sports. Thank you, Honey Bunny.”
“However,” Al began, “did you all watch the sixth game of the World Series. Was that a great game or what?”
“Probably the greatest game I ever saw,” Jerry stated. “I can’t wait to see the seventh game tonight.”
"You've probably seen them all," Al wise-assed.
“I hope the seventh game just goes nine innings,” Joe said. “Staying up until 11:30 is bad enough. One a.m. was ridiculous.”
“Poor boys,” Honey Bunny snorted. “I’m sure you all slept in this morning. I had to get up and start cleaning houses.”
“Gee,” Joe jabbed. “I didn’t even know you were a baseball fan, Honey Bunny.”
“I watch the end events like the World Series, the Super Bowl, the Stanley Cup, the college basketball finals, and the NBA finals. I just don’t overboard like you guys do!”
“Well, there’s hope for you yet,” Joe laughed.
“Let’s order another round, then I’ll tell you what I watched the other night,” Pelly added.
No one disagreed.
Pelly took a large swallow; then began.”There’s been a turtle nest on the beach two blocks from where I live. The Turtle Watch people staked it out, of course. It’s been there a long time and the eggs haven’t hatched.”
“So,” Joe asked?
“So, the other night Turtle Watch people dug it up. There were 95 eggs in the nest.”
“I’ve never seen a turtle egg,” Jerry said.
“Neither had I,” Pelly replied. “They look about like golf balls and the shells are tough and rubbery.”
“Not like a chicken egg,” Honey Bunny asked?
“Much tougher,” Pelly responded. “Anyway, the Turtle watch people just buried the eggs and will report the number to the authorities.”
“Seems to me like it would be a good idea to determine why they didn’t hatch,” Jerry suggested.
“You mean like were they fertilized or did water seep into the nest or what,” Pelly agreed. “You have to give the Turtle Watch people credit though. They patrol the beach looking for signs of turtle nesting every morning about 5 a.m. during nesting season.”
“Which is all summer,” Jerry said. “While we’re sleeping, they’re patrolling. It’s all volunteer work, too; no pay.”
The coots decided to have another drink and dedicate it to the Anna Maria Island Turtle Watch.
“Hear, hear,” they all shouted.
“Well,” Al declared. “I’m going to leave early, have supper, and take a nap. It’s the only way I can stay awake through the seventh game of the 2011 World Series.”
“Sounds like a excellent idea,” the coots chorused. Honey Bunny even joined in!

#####

Peg Leg Pete's Bar and Grill - Chapter 11

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 11 – Buccaneers in London

The four old coots and their one sweet thing were lined up in their usual positions at the bar. Kelli had already brought them their favorite drinks.
“Alright,” Honey Bunny said, after they’d all chugged half their drinks. “Let’s talk a little football and baseball. Then we can get on to more important things.”
“There are no more important things,” Al growled. Al, of course, was a native of Pittsburgh and had been weaned on the Steelers, Pirates, and Penguins.
Joe started off. “How about the Bucs playing the Bears in London tomorrow?”
“You mean London, Ontario,” Honey Bunny chimed in.
“No, dearest, I mean London, England. It’s the second time the Bucs have played there. They have a large fan base in the UK.”
Jerry joined the conversation. “I’ll make a prediction for you. Within five years, the Bucs will move to London.”
“Will they call them the British Buccaneers or the London Towers,” Pelly wise-assed.
“Can’t predict that,” Jerry continued, “but the NFL wants to expand into Europe. There’s a huge market there and American football is popular just like basketball.”
“Will they change their name to IFL for International Football League,” Pelly interrupted.
“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” Jerry snorted. “The point is that the Bucs are the logical first candidate because they are not selling out over here.”
“One team isn’t enough,” Joe interrupted.
“Right,” Jerry agreed. “They’ll pick another team and put it in Frankfort, Germany, where there’s another huge market. The two will be in the same conference and play each other twice. Then they’ll entertain the other teams in the conference at home and travel back to the US to play them there.”
Joe added, “If they make swings through the conference, the teams won’t suffer from the effects of jet lag.”
The other coots all nodded in agreement. “Although,” Jerry finished, “the League might just add two expansion teams over there just like they did in the US.”
“Okay, time’s up,” Honey Bunny laughed. “You have two minutes now to talk World Series.”
“I know the Series is cutting into my sleeping time,” Al commented.
Joe joined in. “I have friends from Ohio who own a condo here. Janet sent me an e-mail which went like this.”
“We are SO exhausted! The games aren't over 'till 11:30, then we watch the re-plays and interviews Then I'm too excited to sleep. Since we get up at 5:00, that's hardly any rest! In late August when they were 10 1/2 back, I had put my Cardinal shirts in the attic, only to have to dig them out again the following week.”
“Serves them right,” Honey Bunny laughed. “Anybody stays up to watch baseball ought to be tired.”
“This comment from the girl who stays up all night watching Law and Order, NCIS, and Bones,” Al laughed.
“Time for another round,” Peg Leg Pete snuck up behind them and hollered. “You all are taking up valuable space.”
“Damn it,” Jerry said. “We’re going to take the rubber thingee off your peg leg so you can’t sneak up on us.”
“Your right about another drink though,” Pelly said. “Where you been hiding Kelli?”
“Watching Sports Center,” Kelli purred. “I’m a big Cardinal fan. It’s going to be 2-1 after tonight.”
“Sure will be 2-1 after tonight but it might be the other way around.”
“Time out,” Honey Bunny shouted. “Enough sports, already.”
The Coots grumbled but as usual did whatever Honey Bunny wanted.
“Okay,” she started off, “let’s talk about Obama’s announcement about pulling troops out of Iraq.”
“It’s a good thing,” Jerry, the only veteran of the group, commented. “Every soldier wants to get home.”
“There’s a danger though,” Al commented. He had seen employment first hand in Pittsburgh’s steel mills. “There’s going to mean hundreds of thousands of people unemployed.”
“Didn’t the government guarantee the jobs back when they called up the reserves and guards,” Honey Bunny quizzed.
“Yes,” Al countered, “but in most cases someone was hired temporarily to replace each person called to active duty. They will be laid off now.”
“I hope the powers that be would be would have thought of this,” Honey Bunny commented.
“Wouldn’t bet on it,” Al scoffed.
Kelli brought another round.
“Let’s change to a really important topic,” Honey Bunny teased. “Should horses be allowed to surf in the Bay and dogs be allowed on Anna Maria Island beaches.”
Joe pretended to choke her.
“Time for one more round and then go home and make dinner,” Pelly ended the conversation for this Happy Hour.

#####

Chapter 10 - Peg Leg Pete's Bar and Grill

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 10 – NFL's First Week

“Hey,” Al yelled as the coots lined up for their daily happy hour, “how’d everyone make out in their football pools?”
“No so hot,” Pelly whined. “The Patriots whipped the Saints bad.”
“Told you so,” Joe chimed in. “They just did to the Saints what they did to the Bucs in preseason.”
“The Steelers didn’t do so well either,” Jerry added.
“Notice how all the losing teams chorused that one game doesn’t mean anything,” Al commented. “The winning teams didn’t comment. When you win you don’t have to make excuses.”
“I thought the Bucs did poorly although I didn’t see the game,” Jerry said. “Looks as if we’ll only see Bucs’ away games this year.”
“Their offensive line sounded really mediocre,” Pelly noted. “They’ve been bragging about the fact the line has been together for a few years. A mediocre line which has been playing together for a few years is still a mediocre line.”
“Did you notice how tight ends and wide receivers dominated corner backs and safeties in every game,” Al said.
“I have a theory about that,” Joe said.
“Do we have to hear your theory,” Honey Bunny cut in. “If we do, at least order another round first.”
Wendy was already on her way.
After a long draught, Joe resumed. “Most corner backs and safeties start out life as running backs. They aren’t quite good enough to be the starter at tailback but they are fast and athletic. So the coach at some level turns them into a starting defensive back.
“Now this worked well for many years but recently the teams have recruited tall tight ends and wide receivers. These guys were probably basketball forwards or centers somewhere along the line. So now, the quarterback just throws the ball high and lets the receiver jump over the shorter defensive back and make the catch. As long as the quarterback is reasonably accurate, tall wins every time.”
“Okay,” Jerry asked, “so what?”
“Coaches better start recruiting taller corner back and safeties,” Joe retorted. “Just like most quarterbacks are now well over six feet so they can see over, and throw over, bigger, taller defensive linemen.”
“Stop it, right now,” Honey Bunny snapped, “or I’ll go play Bingo with the ladies.”
“Can’t let this happen,” Al responded gallantly. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I want to tell you about my new family member.”
“Didn’t even know you were pregnant,” Joe wise-assed.
“I didn’t have a baby, you ninny!”
“Why would you adopt a kid? Just someone else for your abusive husband to abuse.”
“It’s not a human, it’s a kitten. Cute, playful, active. I must have chased her off the table 200 times already.”
“Obviously has a mind of its own,” Jerry commented.
“What did you name her,” Pelly inquired.
“Boots,” Honey Bunny answered. “She has four white feet which look just like little boots.”
“That’s a cute name for a kitten,” Pelly agreed.
“Just one more thing for Spike to abuse,” Joe snorted.
“I’ll put a spike through Spike’s heart if he hurts my kitty,” Honey Bunny snarled.
“Bet Boots doesn’t last a week,” Al added.
“Please don’t even think it,” Honey Bunny cried. “Think positive. Having a kitten will make Spike be a kinder, gentler man.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” Jerry summed up, “but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Wendy came with another round.
“Just to change the subject,” Al said, “what’s you guys opinion on the Australian pines issue which seems to be grabbing headlines lately here on the Island.”
“Well,” Pelly said, “in the first place I’m confused. Sometimes, they’re Australian pines and other times they’re southern pines. In any case, they’re exotic, non-native trees and some people want them out.”
“Personally, I like them whatever they are,” Joe said. “They provide really nice shade.
Take them out and we couldn’t get out of the sun without an umbrella or tent.”
“Do you think the beach paraphernalia rental shops are behind the push to cut down all the pines,” Honey Bunny asked.
“Well, it would increase the sales and rental of artificial shade-makers,” Jerry interjected.
“People just can’t leave well-enough alone, can they,” Joe queried? “Next, they’ll want to rid the Island of Monk parrots. They’re both non-native and exotic.”
“Good luck with whoever tries,” Pelly said. “Besides I like them. They add a little color to a drab bunch of birds.
“Anyway,” he continued, “let’s have one more round. Then its’s time for me to get home and prepare dinner or I’ll add more color to the Island.”
“You mean black and blue when Carolyn gets through with you,” Joe laughed.
“Don’t laugh,” Pelly concluded. “You’ve never been hit by a whirling dervish until you’ve tangled with a Cajun woman.
The coots and Honey Bunny all finished their last round and headed for home.

#####

Chapter 9 - Football's Back

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 9 – Football’s Back

“The Bucs sure got blasted by the Patriots,” Pelly put the needle in.
The coots were in their normal positions. The Bingo Meister was back and the ladies, except for Honey Bunny, were all in the Bingo room.
Al, who was a Steelers fan, retorted, “I didn’t really care who won. It was just good to have a football game to watch.”
Jerry jumped in. “I am a Buccaneers fan and they looked bad. Their offensive line looked as if they couldn’t block anyone. Of course, the game was blacked out so I had to listen on radio. Couldn’t watch since it wasn’t televised here. It sounded like the Steelers are in for trouble.”
“The whole AFL is in trouble if the Patriots continue to play like they did against the Bucs,” Pelly commented.
“The thing which really bugged me,” Al continued, “was the new kick-off rule. There’s hardly going to be any runbacks this year. Runbacks of kickoffs and punts are the most exciting parts of the game for me.”
“It’ll keep down the injuries,” Joe commented.
“Maybe so,” Jerry said, “but football’s a rough sport. If you’re afraid of getting hurt, you shouldn’t play.”
“Well, like it or not,” Joe concluded, “we’re stuck with the rule for this season anyway.”
“Let’s have another round,” Honey Bunny interrupted. “I’m dry and bored. If you don’t change the subject, I’m going to join the ladies.”
“Can’t let that happen,” Joe yelled. “Kelly, bring another round and make Honey Bunny’s extra large.”
“Just one anecdote,” Al chimed in. “There were a whole group sitting in front of us. One little kid was waving a Mexican flag every time Ochocinco stepped onto the field. Ochocinco is black as the ace of spades but that kid was sure he was Mexican.”
“Okay, Honey Bunny, what do you want to talk about.”
“All the new box-like houses being built on our Island. Most of them rentals. We’re beginning to look like a development.”
“Doesn’t this mean more work for you,” Jerry questioned?
“Sure it does,” Honey Bunny replied, “but what’s happening is two or three families are going together to share the rental cost. That means two or three times the work cleaning up.”
“So,” Joe questioned?
“So, my work’s increased but my pay hasn’t.”
“Why don’t you ask for more?”
“Because work’s so scarce there’s always someone ready to work for whatever’s being paid.”
“Whatever happened to minimum wage,” Jerry interjected?
“Same thing which happened here,” Kelli butted in. “Part time work, depend on tips, and get two or three jobs.” Kelli brought another round of drinks.
“I thought the Pine Avenue Restoration project was supposed to bring all these businesses and new jobs into the area.”
“Yeah, right,” Honey Bunny snorted. “Most of the businesses are real estate offices. The few real businesses just employ part-time onesies twosies just like the restaurants, bars, and cleaners.”
“Better than nothing,” Joe stated plainly. “You can always go to a big city to seek your fortune.”
“And leave our Island,” Honey Bunny cried. “Never! I’ll starve here first.”
“Then stop complaining and drink up,” Joe kidded as he moved over and gave her a hug. “All us old coots would just dry up and blow away without you, Honey Bunny.”
Pelly glanced at the Pirate clock on the wall. “Hate to break up happy hour. It’s time for me to go get dinner started. The Bingo game will be over pretty soon.”
The rest of the coots nodded in agreement and rose to pay their tabs. “Don’t forget what we just said,” Honey Bunny admonished, “Tip Kelli well.”
“Don’t we always,” the coots said in unison as they trooped out.
Honey Bunny hesitated, not sure if she wanted to go home to an abusive husband. Oh, well, she thought, maybe he’s in a good mood tonight.

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Chapter 8 - Peg Leg Pete's Bar and Grill

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 8 – Who Dat in My Bar Stool??

The coots were assembled in Peg Leg Pete’s parking lot, ready to charge in for happy hour. Joe looked in the window and turned with a stunned expression on his face.

(Actually, Peg Leg Pete’s was unique because his windows and doors were uncovered. Most bars windows and doors are covered. In the first place if you go into a bar, you shouldn’t be ashamed to have passerby’s see you. If you are, don’t go into the bar. Secondly, it would prevent a whole lot of opening and closing the bar door as people looked in to see if their friends was there. Think of all the cool air, and electricity which would be saved. And all the tobacco smoke which would be contained rather than being let loose to pollute the atmosphere. But, back to the story.)

“What’s the matter,” Al asked alarmed.
Polly questioned in his best Creole, “Who dat sittin’ in my bar stool.”
“Dey look like dames,” Joe replied in Brooklynese.
“They’re not dames,” Jerry chimed in, “they’re our wives and Honey Bunny.”
Enraged, the coots charged – actually tottered – into Peg Leg’s. “What are you doing in our seats,” Al yelled.
“Sitting here having a drink,” his wife, Ellen, replied coolly.
“But, but, but, but,” Al sputtered.
“You sound like a motor boat,” Honey Bunny laughed.
“Besides,” Pelly’s wife, Caroline, chimed in, “I don’t see your names on any of these bar stools.”
“We always sit in these seats,” Joe yelled. “Possession is nine/tenths of the law.”
“Right…and we possess them right now,” Jerry’s wife, Mary, said calmly.
The coots griped, grouched, and grumbled but finally took seats, midway up the bar.
Alice, today’s bartender, promptly brought the coots their favorite drinks.
“What’s up with dat,” Joe asked her.
Mike, the bingo meister, is down with the flu. He just couldn’t make it today.
“Let’s send him a get well card,” Jerry suggested. “Either he gets well or we have to get here earlier tomorrow.”
“I just don’t feel right sitting here,” Al groused. “I feel like a stranger in my own bar.”
“Don’t feel like a Lone Ranger,” Jerry grumbled. “We all feel the same way.”
“What’s the matter, boys,” Honey Bunny purred as she came by to give each coot a hug? “Wives win again? You know they always do.
“Anyway, what’s the hot stove league topic today?”
“Joe,” from New York and, naturally, a Yankee fan, complained about the Tampa Bay Rays 3-2 win over the Yankee’s last night.”
“You’re unhappy,” Jerry, a Ray’s fan, countered. “They should have lost the night before, too. And, what about the Rays’ l6-inning loss to the Red Sox the night before? It’s getting to the point, I can’t stay awake till the end of the game. I have to wait until the next morning and check the score on ESPN.”
“The Rays sure need to get some more hitting,” Al commented. “If I was a Rays’ pitcher, I’d be pissed off. You pitch a good game and still lose.”
“If I was any pitcher,” Pelly chimed in, “I’d be pissed off when I had a tie score or was winning and the manager pulled me because I had a few more than a hundred pitches.”
“The managers just play the averages,” Joe said. “Statistics prove pitchers begin tiring after a hundred pitches. So now you have relief pitchers.”
“Hell,” Jerry noted, “now you have several different kinds of relief pitchers including closers.”
“I don’t care,” Pelly insisted, “if I was a pitcher and was pulled in a close game, I’d be pissed. If the relief pitcher blew my lead, I’d be ready to kill him.”
“Once again,” Honey Bunny, stuck the needle in, “you boys can gripe all you want but you can’t change nothing.”
“How about the NFL,” Al questioned? “I sure hope they get their problems settled. I’d go nuts if there wasn’t a season.”
“You and most of the nation,” Jerry commented.
Al, a native of Pittsburgh and a rabid Steeler fan, noted he had tickets for the second
Tampa Bay Bucs exhibition game.
“Who they playing,” Pelly asked?
“The New England Patriots.”
“Why’d a Steeler fan pick the Bucs-Patriots game to go to?
“Ellen’s daughter got the tickets for her birthday. She’s a Patriot’s fan. So we decided to go along and heckle her. I’m even buying a bright orange Buccaneer’s shirt to wear. Besides, the Bucs have a really good team this year plus a lot of top draft picks. They may even be playing the Steelers in the Super Bowl this year.”
“In your dreams,” Pelly argued. “It’s the New Orleans Saints again.” Pelly, of course, was a rabid Saints’ fan.
“Of course,” Joe inserted, “the Green Bay Packers may have something to say about it.”
“You’re heartless,” Honey Bunny said, referring back to the orange Buccaneers shirts. “I’d be just as happy if there was no football season.”
“Jesus,” Joe said, “how many reruns of Law and Order can you watch?”
“It’s better than watching football,” Honey Bunny retorted.
“I’ll never understand women,” Joe sighed.
“Thank goodness,” Honey Bunny laughed.
Then, just as if to reinforce Joe’s statement. Ellen, Mary, and Carolyn stood up.
“You can have your seats back, boys,” Ellen announced. “We’re going to the Bingo room and play cards. Want to join us, Honey Bunny?”
“No thanks. I’ll just stay here and keep the boys in line.”
"Good luck," the ladies chorused. "We've never been able to!"
The boys all resumed their normal seats. “Alice,” Joe said, “give us each a pitcher, please. And give Honey Bunny, a 16-ounce glass of vodka with two jiggers of cranberry juice thrown in.”
“Go easy on the ice,” Honey Bunny commented. “It’s not often the coots are buying,” she teased. Then she gave each one a peck on the cheek. “You know I love each one of you old coots. You’re still my only family.”

######

Chapter 7 -- Peg Leg Pete's Bar and Grill

Copyright 2011 John R Wilhelm

Peg Leg Pete’s Bar and Grill
By
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 7 – Sequel Needed??

“There ought to be a sequel to the latest book on the history of Anna Maria Island,” Jerry grumbled after chugging down his first beer of happy hour.
“What’s your soap box topic today,” Al asked?
“What do you mean,” Joe commented? “I thought it was a good book”
“Yeah,” Pelly cut in, “all those old timey photos of bathing beauties getting off a steamboat on the Anna Maria Pier.”
“Bathing beauties,” Joe snorted! “How could you tell? Those bathing suits covered everything.”
“Exactly my point,” Jerry countered. “We need a sequel contrasting yesterday with today.”
“You mean photos of old times contrasted with today,” Al queried?
“Yes. Full body bathing suits contrasted with today’s bikinis,” Jerry answered.
Pelly waxed enthusiastic. “The Island’s sparse population then with today’s crowded conditions.
“Churches then and now; almost no traffic then compared to gridlock today.”
“Plenty of fish back then compared to the few brought in today,” Joe added.
“That’s why,” Pelly snorted. “Back then, no one thought of conservation or future generations. Just thought it would go on forever.”
Peg Leg Pete cut in on the conversation. “Just think, you old coots. Back then you had sand, scrub, palmettos, and mosquitoes. All sorts of creepy, crawly things which could bite you in the night.” Pete was a Vietnam vet. He never wanted to see nature in the raw again.
The coots all yelled in unison. “Quit sneakin’ up on us like this. Take the felt pads off your peg leg or we’ll put a bell around your neck.”
Joe couldn’t resist. “Mosquitoes were better than concrete, cars, golf carts, bicycles and segways. At least repellent would keep mosquitoes off you.”
Peg Leg laughed. “Alice, pour these leftovers from the 1930s a drink.”
The coots all prepared to toast their proprietor.
Just then the door opened and all heads turned to check out the newcomer.
The coots all jumped off their stools and made a bee-line for the door. Of course, it wasn’t a very fast bee-line but it was the best they could do.
Honey Bunny was back.
“Easy guys,” she hollered as they all tried to hug her. “Remember, my arm’s broke.”
“Set up a couple of drinks for our Honey Bunny,” Joe yelled to Alice. “She’s way behind us.”
“You mean today,” Alice commented, “or two week’s worth. She’s been gone that long.”
“Whoa, Alice. Two week’s worth and the coots would be carrying me home.”
“Any time! Glad to do it,” Joe said giving his best leer.
Honey Bunny gave each one a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Sure is good to be back.”
After the group had finished with their current round and Alice had brought another, Honey Bunny asked “What’s the topic today. I’ve missed all your nonsensical ranting and raving over nothing.”
“What do you mean nonsensical,” Jerry pretended to be hurt.
“Well,” Honey Bunny bored in, “you all pinpoint problems but you never do anything about them.”
“You really know how to hurt a guy,” Al said.
“Yes, and don’t forget to thank Ellen, Carolyn, and Mary for doing the cleaning jobs you were supposed to do.”
A lot of sheepish looks appeared at the coots’ end of the bar.
“Just kidding,” Honey Bunny added. The coots weren’t sure she was.
“Anyway,” she added. “I really don’t know what I’d have done without the help of you guys and your wives. You’re the only true friends I have in the whole world.”
“Let’s have another round,” Pelly said, trying to hide the emotion he felt.
“You guys are just big, old pussy cats,” Alice said but there were tears in her eyes, too.
“By the way, Honey Bunny, did you go the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the Anna Maria Pier.”
“Sorry, I missed it,” Honey Bunny replied. “I was afraid my broken arm would get jostled by the crowd.”
“It was a good show,” Al interjected. “Parade on Friday and VIP reception. Then an art and crafts show on Saturday topped off with fireworks in the evening.”
“Lots of good food to eat,” Pelly added.
Joe, ever the pessimist, couldn’t resist, “Rained hard as hell Saturday afternoon though. My friend was soaked. She would have won the wet T-shirt contest.”
“If there’d been one,” Al pointed out.
“Didn’t you get soaked, too,” Honey Bunny ventured.
“No, I waited for her at Feeling Swell bar and grill. They have dollar drafts every weekday from two to six. She came by and told me she was headed home to dry off.”
“So you blew another date,” Honey Bunny put the needle in.
“Only a temporary setback. Anyway, I’m waiting for you,” Joe retorted.
“You don’t have enough years left to wait for me,” Honey Bunny pointed out mischievously.
“I intend to live forever,” Joe replied.
“So far, so good,” Jerry interdicted. “Let’s order another round.”
“Sounds like a winner to me they chorused.”
Honey Bunny stood up.
“It’s too early to leave,” Pelly pointed out.
“I know it. I’m going back to the Bingo room to thank the girls for being so kind.”
“You’re taking your life in your hands,” Jerry pointed out. “If you make one of them miss “bingo,” you’re dead meat.”
“I’ll chance it,” Honey Bunny said, as she left.
Ten minutes later she was back carrying a drink.
“You underestimate your wives, coots. They appreciated my thoughtfulness. Even bought me a drink.”
The coots thought a moment, then all headed for the Bingo room. “Maybe they’ll buy us a drink, too,” All commented.
“Worth a try,” Jerry, Al, and Pelly said in unison.
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