Impulse

Ever fed up doing the same old thing? Has routine got you down? The only way to stop the rot is to do something out of the ordinary. You know the types of things I’m talking about: go to the library and hire out a Louise Doughty book, memorise pi to seventy-three decimal places, seek out broken traffic lights on a four-way junction and direct the traffic.

Well I always like to cover new ground and a dangerous inclination came upon me in the pub this morning. Ordinarily, the quiet drinkers keep themselves to themselves while the made man, the mad man, Tommy Spaghetti, holds court with his hoods at the back of the bar. For once I decided to join them.

I sauntered over and slapped big Tommy on the back. He turned round, glaring at me. I said.

“Last week. The police. They pull me in, start asking questions. You know, this and that. This big cop called Moe says “What are you going to tell us?” I said, “My usual. Nothing.” “Why tell you?”. He says, “No, you’ll tell me something today, tough guy.” I said, “Okay, I’ll tell you something. Thirty years ago I slept with your mother.” Ping. Pow. Bam. You saw the paper. My head was out like this. I’m coming around and who do I see in front of me? This stupid cop again. He says, “What do you want to tell me now, tough guy?” I said. “Moe, I’m your father.” Ping. Pow.

Tommy Spaghetti went into a laughing fit and all his sycophants joined in. I bid him salud, walking with a swagger to my side of the bar, then I turned and said.
“Go home and get your shinebox.”

I managed to make it outside without being hit by the pool cues, pint tumblers and barstools that flew over my head. Tomorrow, for a change, I’ll go to a different pub.