The Café

It was a day like any other at the Café, which hasn’t changed in years, the same early morning regulars for coffee and a little gossip. I’ve always sworn that these men are worse than women when it comes to gossiping. Sometimes fun, sometimes nasty the same ole guys except for the few who have passed on.

As I quietly sip my coffee, I hear the old man faintly grunt as he repositioned himself in his chair, he was leaned back, legs were crossed as if he were sitting at his own kitchen table. A spontaneous guffaw and grumble could be heard throughout the tiny diner as he responded to the how was your Christmas question thrown at him by a another man who sat at a neighboring table.
Grunting he hopped up out of his seat, ignoring the question entirely , and as he wobbled down the hallway he calls out “almost forgot to do my daily duty” with just a tiny little snicker.
The door flung open at that time letting in a huge gush of Antarctic air, which swept across the tiny Café engulfing everyone. Tom, a large man bellowed Merry Christmas as he stepped in, letting out a big Rumbling laugh which shook his entire body.
Shooting a mischievous glance my way and showing just a hint of a smile as he gave off a tiny little snicker. The old man replies,
“Shot that ole gray hair bastard, shot em right in the head.”

This is when he walked in….

[to be continued]


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